All Things Bright and Beautiful
by dlynn


CHAPTER SEVEN:

THAT AFTERNOON

AT THE LONEGUNMEN'S

"You know...there's something I've never understood,"
Mulder groused, pushing past Frohike, and entering into
the Lone Gunmen's dark and dismal office. "For three of
the 21st century's self-proclaimed gizmo geeks-"

"-20th century. The 21st century doesn't begin until Jan-"  

Mulder grimaced in Langly's face, effectively ending
another lecture on the Judeo-Christian calendar, and the
millennium debate.

"Langly, I've heard that lecture from a math geek who's
a whole lot prettier than you-"

"And I bet she kisses better, too," Frohike mumbled
under his breath, sliding into a seat beside the
conference table.

Ignoring the softly uttered comment, Mulder continued,
"What's with the locks, fellas? I mean, you could steal
and install the most sophisticated alarm system known to
mankind or 'alien'kind for that matter."

Frohike tossed Mulder a large envelope. Snagging it in
mid-air, Mulder proceeded to open it, tearing
through the missive with all the finesse of a junk mail
junkie.

"Admit it, Frohike, you just get off hearing all the
little tumbler sounds," Langly mumbled, his mouth full
of pizza as he grabbed a soft drink out of the
fridge. "I think you consider those locks your own
personal chastity belt. Although, frankly," he said,
looking the short man up and down, "I don't know who
would want your goods."

"Alright, that's it. Get me the scissors. It's time to
see if there's a man under all that hair or just a very
butt ugly woman."

Byers, without looking up from the coffee he sipped,
said, "Give it a rest, Frohike. You've threatened to cut
his locks so many times, he ignores you."

"Who said I was going to cut the dreds; I was aiming my
scissors much lower. I figure he looks like a girl, so I
might as well help finish the process," he laughed, his
eyebrows wiggling with the humor of it all.

Mulder stared at the file, oblivious to the teasing going
on behind him. He flipped through the pages, examining
photos. As though his legs were suddenly made of rubber,
he dropped into a chair. With methodical intent he began
to lay sheets of paper out in a line on the conference
table.

"Guys, I need to track some dates. Power up those bad
boys," he murmured.

"Bad boys... whatcha gonna do.. whatcha gonna do when
they come for you... Bad boys, bad boys...what you gonna
do.. whatcha..." Frohike and Langley semi-sang, skulking
around the room with glee.

"Uh...guys?"

"Sorry, Mulder. What can we say, it's not every day we have
a total 'stud' television star at our humble abode," Langly
joked, good-naturedly smacking Frohike in the arm.

"Oh...man, did they re-air that last night. Scully's gonna
kill me all over again. Damn! Maybe she didn't realize it
was on? Her brother, Bill, gave her such a hard time the
first time it showed," Mulder whined, dreading the looks
he knew he'd get from his more than put out partner.

"I sooo hate the Fox Network."

"What -- the network that gave us 'Babes, Broads and
Boardrooms, an investigative look into the feminist
culture of the nineties'...instant classic, man..."

"Think we could get back to business, guys?" Mulder
asked, turning his attention once more to his work.

Byers, who had been seated at the table browsing through
a newspaper, wheeled his chair over to one of the
computer terminals, ready and waiting.

But Mulder was in a world of his own, sorting papers and
making piles. Although there was no outward discernable
difference between them, he seemed to have a goal in mind.

"Mulder what are you looking for, dude," Langly asked,
peering over his shoulder. Seeing that Mulder was
examining Dr. Waterston's conference schedules, he
continued. "We went through all those, Mulder. There's
nothing. The good doc just traveled a lot, you know,
being the 'expert' in his field and all."

"Mmm...hmmm..." Mulder muttered, staring at the piles he
made. Reaching into his pocket, he slipped out a small
notebook, leafing though it until he'd exposed a page
covered in his tight scrawl.

"Pull up Waterston's itinerary for February 23, 1995,"
Mulder demanded, finally looking up to catch Byers'
gaze.

Obviously, something in his look demonstrated how
serious he was because the quiet man hit the keyboard
full force, his fingers flying across the keys.
"Ok...Mulder. Got it. What do you need?" Byers asked, his
fingers stilled for the moment.

"Hey, isn't February 23 the lovely Agent Scully's
birthday?" Frohike asked.

Ignoring the question, Mulder continued giving
instruction to Byers.

"I want you to cross check that date, the good doctor's
conference schedule, and...the local Police Department
homicide records."

"Alright," Byers said, his computer mouse clicking its
way through the various sites as he did Mulder's
bidding.

"Dr. Waterston, according to what we've been able to dig
up, was in Minneapolis attending an AMA symposium on
the role of triage in emergency medicine."

"Good, that tracks with some information I've been
given. I now need for you to pull up the Minneapolis
police records for that date, and look for a case file on
Ashley Jenkins. She was an emergency medical technician,
also attending the conference."

"Hey, man, I know you don't like the dude for the head
games he's been playing with Scully, but Mulder I-"

Mulder cut Langly off with a shake of his head.

"Ok...got it. According to the Minneapolis Police
Department records...the murder of Ashley Jenkins is still
unsolved. Ms. Jenkins was murdered on the night of
February 23, 1995. Her body was found outside a local
nightclub. She'd been stabbed. Since her purse was
taken, the police think it was a mugging gone sour.
There are no leads, no witnesses-"

"Yes, there are...I just spoke to one," Mulder sighed as
he got up and headed over to Byers. "Do me a favor; pull
up a picture of Ashley Jenkins."

"Sure, no problem," Byers said, minimizing the homicide
record screen and pulling up another. While he worked,
Langly and Frohike joined Mulder. Finally, the monitor
filled with Ashley Jenkin's drivers license photo.
Although, it was obviously not the best photo, Mulder
could see the important detail - her red hair.

"Here's the deal, guys. I need you to cross check every
one of Dr. Waterston's medical jaunts with unsolved
homicide records for those particular cities. Check for  
corresponding dates. Specifically, we are looking for
female victims, probably affiliated in some way with the
science or medical profession. And while you're at it, I
want you to do the same thing with any other time he's
traveled, even if it appears to only be a vacation or
some other personal trip. And I needed this yesterday,"
Mulder requested, sitting back down at the table.

"So where did this intuitive leap in logic come from,
Mulder? What makes you think Dr. Waterston had anything
to do with Ms. Jenkin's murder?

Not really being aware who asked the question, Mulder
replied, "I spent two hours this morning with the guy
who not only witnessed that murder, but helped our lothario
doctor get rid of the evidence -- the purse and the knife.
 
Regrettably, that's long out of our reach because he did
a good job disposing it, but Dr. Waterston doesn't
have to know that. Apparently, Waterston was so out of
it after he did the deed, he left the details in our
witness's hands, and he never asked anything else about
it. I thinkit's time to pay Dr. Waterston another visit,
and givehim a taste of his own medicine. The stalkee's
gonna become the stalker."

Seeing the pained expression on his friend's face as he
told his story, Frohike asked, "Mulder, what else aren't
you telling us?"

"All the victims, and I'm sure you will find more, will
have red hair...Frohike, they'll all have red hair."

"Alright, Mulder, give it up. What else did this witness
say?"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

FEBRUARY, 23, 1995
THE CHOCOLATE SHOP
MINNEAPOLIS, MINNESOTA

THE CHOCOLATE SHOP may have been a bizarre name for a
bar, but it didn't deter the customers. They packed the
place out on a nightly basis. The music, the drink
specials, and its proximity to the hospital made it a
regular watering hole for the medical community in town.
Over the years it had established itself as a place to
unwind. For people who lived with life and death stress
on a daily basis - doctors, firefighters, cops, EMT's -
they all gathered at the 'SHOP.'

Tonight was no exception. It was tame for his tastes,
but this is where the AMA conference attendees wanted to
go. He'd start his evening here, but finish it up some
place with a hell of a lot more life. Food, talk and
good music were great, but it just wasn't the kind of
evening he had planned. Dr. Neal Samuels needed the
seamier side of life to stir his blood. THE CHOCOLATE
SHOP was only the first stop in his evening's itinerary.

"Hey, sweets, give Neal a slow comfortable screw, will
ya, hon?" he leered at the waitress as she took the
table's drink orders. "And, sweetheart, the sloooower...
the better."

"Like I haven't heard that one before, 'Hon'," the
waitress smirked, making her way through the tight
aisles between tables, deftly avoiding Neal's obvious
attempts to grab her fanny. She barely looked old enough
to meet the legal drinking age, but she knew her way
around slobs like him.

"Blown out of the water again, Neal. Torpedoed, and
sunk, all by some 'sweet thang' who's young enough to be
your daughter. How does your ego take this abuse? I
mean, have you EVER been laid?" laughed one of Dr.
Samuels' contemporaries as the others at the table
nodded in agreement.

Neal ignored the laughter, his gaze focused across the
room. The great Dr. Daniel Waterston was seated in the
corner, huddled into a darkened booth with a very
beautiful woman. What was with that guy? He was duller
than a box of rocks, never wanted to have any fun, and
yet, women seemed to flock to his side. The few times
he'd tried to get ol' Danny to hit the town with him,
he'd been politely, but firmly, dismissed.

Before he'd had the chance to evaluate any more of
Waterston's behavior, he noticed his colleague and his
date slipping from the booth. Daniel helped the woman on
with her winter coat. She was quite lovely, almost as
tall as he was, with shimmering red hair. Danny boy was
doing 'alright.'

Realizing he wasn't going to see any action here, and
feeling as welcome as a bad case of the clap, Samuels
decided it was time to hit the road. He'd check out the
place he'd been to last night. THE STABLE had girls more
to his liking anyway. They were a little rougher around
the edges, not as fresh faced as Ms. co-ed, but they
knew how to get the job done, and that's all that
mattered to him.

Standing, he grabbed his coat, pulled several bills from
his wallet, and tossed them into the center of the
table. "Since I can't convince any of you slugs to live
a little, I'll be heading out. This place is putting me
to sleep."

Neal was halfway to the door before he realized no one
had even commented on his departure. Twisting, he looked
back, the entire populace of the table was engrossed in
conversation. Not one had even noticed his absence.

"Fuck 'em," he muttered, heading into the cold night
air.

And Lord it was cold. Samuels shivered like he'd been
walking for hours, instead of only seconds. Maybe this
wasn't such a good idea after all, he thought as he
headed, at a fast clip, down the block to where he'd
left his rental car. But that's ok...he'd find someone
to thawout all the important parts...oh..yeah...

As Neal turned the corner, his sedan finally in view, he
caught a reflection in a storefront window. It was
Waterston, and that redhead from the bar. Daniel seemed
to be helping her walk. In fact, he appeared to be
practically carrying the woman as she lay limp against
him. Funny, she hadn't seemed drunk when they'd left the
bar. If anything, she'd seemed more sober than her date.

Stopping, Neal quietly walked to the alley's entrance,
and slid behind a dumpster. This should prove to be
funny, watching God's great gift to medicine get it on
with some drunken babe. Although, by the looks of her,
she wouldn't be bringing a whole lot of action to the
proceedings. What fun was there in that--?

Waterston stepped beneath a small, bare light bulb, his
silhouette visible for the first time as he settled the
woman upon the ground. Her body lay still, prostrate
against the filthy alley concrete. Waterston looked up,
his hands lifted in supplication as he examined the
bright red blood staining them. It was as though he
didn't recognize his own body, or his hands covered in
in the woman's blood.

Neal gasped.

Daniel's eyes tracked the alley, looking for the sound.
Searching as though he knew someone was there, his gaze
caught Neal in its intensity.

Eyes met, and time stopped as each assessed the
situation and his part in the outcome. No words were
spoken, not a sound broke the stillness of the winter
night, except the panicked exhales of each doctor as he
realized the import of what was happening - the unholy
alliance he was forming.

Samuels' lips curved upward, a sickening smile overtook
his features as he considered all the possibilities. It
would be good having the great Dr. Waterston under his
thumb. Surely Daniel would understand the way this would
work, once his faculties had returned. At the moment,
however, Waterston's eyes were wild, glazed over as
though he was in a trance.

Crooking his finger in Waterston's direction, Samuels
motioned him to follow. Stumbling, the shaky doctor got
up, leaving the woman's broken body where he'd laid it.
As he approached, Samuels asked, "Did you take her
purse?"

"What...no...why would I do that?"

"Take the purse, man. They'll think it was just a
mugging. Go on, get it, I'll dispose of it for you,"
Samuels said, taking the knife from Waterston's hand,
and slipping it into a clean handkerchief from his
pocket.He walked out of the alley as Waterston retrieved
thepurse. Finally, Samuels heard footsteps coming up
behind him as his new best friend joined him on the
sidewalk.

They'd have fun at THE STABLE, but first they'd have to
get the good doctor cleaned up, and dispose of the
evidence.

Details, nothing more.

If only Neal had realized then, alliances forged in
deception rarely worked. He found out later how
Waterston had bided his time, being docile at first,
gradually slipping farther away from his keeper, until
that fateful moment, a couple of years later, when he
framed his 'best friend' for the murder of Dr.
Janice Leonard.

By then there was nothing Neal could do. How could he
prove anything? There was no evidence; he'd gotten rid
of that himself. And no one would believe his word
against the legend.

Samuels was just a patsy, a plaything to be toyed with
bythe psychotic genius of a madman.



~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

PRESENT DAY
MULDER EN ROUTE TO HIS OFFICE

"Mulder."

"Mulder, this consult with VICAP is taking longer then I
expected. And something's come up that's going to keep
me even longer," came Scully's breathless voice over his
cell phone.

"Where are you, Scully? You sound like you're running a
marathon," Mulder chuckled, thinking how glad he was to
hear her voice. It had been a long day, and with the
things he was finding out about Daniel, it looked like
it might get even longer.

"Actually, Skinner and I are at the airport, we just
raced for the gate, but the plane's been slightly
delayed so we have a few minutes after all. Apparently,
they need me at a 7:00 p.m. meeting in Boston related to
this case, and he's being pulled in to help co-ordinate
the DC/Boston team. That's what I was calling about. I
tried you earlier, but your phone kept registering as
out of range. Where were you, Mulder?"

Stopping for a red light, he ignored her question. His
eyes narrowed at the implication of her words. "Boston?
You're heading to Boston? How did I get so far out of
the loop," Mulder complained, not at all happy with this
turn of events. "And why aren't I going there with you?"

"Because you aren't a forensic pathologist? Because this
isn't an X-File, and because you weren't asked?"
Scully laughed.

"Look, Mulder, I'll be back in the morning. I've got
the first shuttle out; I should be in the office
before you. I'll call you later this evening, and give
you the hotel's phone number. But it will be late. We're
going directly to the Boston bureau from the airport.
Until then you'll have to just try and stay out of trouble.
Think you can handle that?"

"Scully, wait...don't hang up yet? Is Skinner there with
you?"

"Yeah, he's grabbing a couple of coffees over at the
Barney's stand, why?"

"Put him on; I need to tell him something," Mulder
asked, wishing he didn't sound like he was ordering her,
but fearful that she'd blow him off if he told her the
truth behind his request.

"Skinner," boomed the voice at the other end of the
line.

"Sir, I need you to do something for me. It's imperative
that you understand, and follow through even if I am
unable to convince you as to all my reasoning."

"Mulder, what cock and bull story are you going to
lay on me now, and do you have to do it at this
particular moment? They've just called our plane."

Afraid that he might hang up before he had the chance to
relay the seriousness of his request, Mulder blurted his
entreaty as quickly as he could. "Look, Sir, don't let
Agent Scully out of your sight. I have every reason to
believe that she is in grave danger, and while I don't
have all the particulars at this moment, I am in the
process of gathering them. I repeat...do_not_let her out
of your sight. I think there's more to this stalker, Dr.
Waterston, then what first appeared."

"Does Agent Scully know of your concerns, Mulder?"

Taking a deep breath, Mulder sighed, "No Sir, she
doesn't. Most of the information I've acquired has been
since I last talked to her, and to say that she won't be
pleased that I've done this digging--"

"---behind her back?" Skinner whispered as though he
was trying to keep the conversation as private as
possible.

"---uh...yes...behind her back. Hell, let's just say, she's
gonna kick my ass..."

"Is the 'ass kicking' warranted, Mulder? Are you mixing
personal with professional? Because if you are, I'm
going to be adding my size eleven's to your butt and
personally kick it up and down the halls of Hoover.
Do I make myself clear, Agent Mulder."

"Clear as crystal," Mulder paused, considering his next
words, "...off the record, Sir. This is bad. Before it's
done I may have linked Dr. Daniel Waterston to several
murders, and his motivation, his obsession behind all of
this psychotic behavior...is Scully, Sir."

There was a pause at the other end of the line,
followed by a deep exhalation. "Mulder, Scully's
protection will be my first priority. You can count on
it."

"Thank you, Sir. I will have to..." Mulder said as he
hit the end signal button on his phone. In the meantime,
he thought, it's time to let Dr. Waterston know he's
on his trail. Time to put the fear of God in that man,
and let him know the score.


CHAPTER EIGHT:

DANIEL WATERSTON'S
EARLY EVENING

Mulder drove his bureau issued car down the tree-lined
street. As he looked around the quiet residential
thoroughfare, he admired the stately oaks that stood at
attention like giant toy soldiers, their aged and thick
branches, both massive and inspiring.

The expansive canopy above blocked the setting sun's
final daylight rays. As it was, shadows skipped
across the sidewalks, a prelude to the coming darkness.
In another 15 minutes it would be twilight, that lovely
time of in-between.

Besides the grand oaks lining the street, there were
houses of magnificent proportion. This was an extremely
affluent neighborhood. Tall white pillars, brick homes,
and long, winding circular driveways were the norm, not
the exception. Money flowed through this neighborhood
like honey flowed over the streets of Heaven.

'Man...was that another Lexus?' Mulder thought, his eyes
drawn to one more opulent vehicle.

Glancing down at the paper where he'd written the
address, he halted at the stop sign. Reading the name of
the cross street, he lingered at the intersection,
deciding his best approach.

'Direct works for me,' he thought, pushing his foot down
hard against the accelerator until he was gliding once
more through the lifestyles of the rich and famous.

Mulder decelerated as he approached Waterston's home.
According to his directions, it should be the large two-
story house on the right. It was brick, with black
shutters, and a bright red door. The house was
magnificent, there was no doubt, but it wasn't nearly as
large as its neighbors. The attached three-car garage
was grand, and Mulder wistfully smiled at the basketball
half-court which took up a large portion of the good
doctor's driveway.

Now that was his kind of house.

Too bad the basketball court came with a psychotic,
serial killer. Ah well, what's one to do. It's so
difficult keeping out the riff-raff; the neighborhood's
going to hell in a hand basket.

After snuggling his car up alongside the curb, Mulder
opened the driver's door. Just as he closed it, a blue,
Ford truck pulled into the Waterston's driveway. Knowing
the doctor drove a BMW, he wondered who the guest might
be.

He didn't have to wait long as a tall, slim woman
emerged from the car. A lanky guy with wavy red hair
accompanied her. They were laughing, obviously enjoying
each other's company so much that they failed to notice
him strolling up the sidewalk. The fact they'd just
embraced in a manner, which left nothing to the
imagination as to what they meant to each other,
probably had something to do with how oblivious they
were to his approach.

"Uh...hmm...Excuse me, is this Dr. Daniel Waterston's
home?"

As though they'd just been caught necking on the front
porch after the prom, the woman and her escort broke
hurriedly apart. Self-consciously chuckling, they seemed
to realize how foolish their nervousness was. They were
adults, and it was their driveway.

The woman spoke first.

"This is Dr. Waterston's home. I'm his daughter, Maggie.
May I help you?"

Mulder pulled his I.D. out of his jacket pocket.
Flipping the case open, he said, "I'm Special Agent Fox
Mulder, of the FBI. I was hoping to speak to Dr.
Waterston. Is he home?"

With the mention of FBI, Maggie and her friend
exchanged apprehensive glances. Finally, the young man
spoke.

"Dr. Waterston should be home any minute. Is there a
problem, Agent Mulder? I'm Mark Peters, Maggie's
fiance."

"I just need to speak with Dr. Waterston concerning a
couple of concurrent cases I'm working. I think he might
be able to help me clear up a few things," Mulder
replied.

Turning to Maggie, he continued, "So, you're
Dr. Waterston's daughter? I'm Agent Scully's partner. I
believe you know each other. She has mentioned you."

"Yes, I know Dana Scully," Maggie answered, her eyes
narrowing as though she was considering this
information.

"Dana?...You know Daniel mentioned a 'Dana' the other
morning at breakfast," Mark volunteered, "In fact he
seemed quite agitated about her. I wonder if she is the
same one."

The hairs on the back of Mulder's neck stood up. "When
was this, Mr. Peters? And in what context was she
discussed?"

"Agent...Mulder? I'm not sure I should be discussing a
private conversation with you without Daniel's
permission. You understand, I'm sure?" Mark said,
apparently unsure about what he'd just revealed, and
dismissing Mulder with the tone of his voice.

"Look, why don't we take this conversation inside.
There's no need to provide gossip for the whole
neighborhood," Maggie encouraged, her own anxiety
evident as she directed their attention to the woman
across the street collecting her mail.

"Agent Mulder, come in; I'll fix us all something
cold to drink, and we can talk in private."

The threesome headed up the walkway to the front door.
Just as Maggie was inserting the key into the lock, the
sounds of screeching tires filled the air. Dr.
Waterston's BMW swerved into the driveway. Barely
missing the bumper of Maggie's truck, he slammed on the
brakes.

Banging open the car door, he was out of the vehicle so
fast it barely seemed like he had time to put it into
park.
 
"What the hell is going on around here? And who said
that YOU could come into my house?" Waterston screamed
at Mulder, oblivious to the stares of the woman across
the street, and his own daughter's confused expression.

"Agent Mulder, if you need to speak to me, you should
make an appointment and come to my office. But frankly,
I don't see that we have any more to say to each other.
Is it necessary for me to get your superiors involved
because you can't seem to keep your personal life
separated from your professional?"

"Dad, what's gotten into you? Agent Mulder's with the
FBI and--"

"Maggie, I know who Agent Mulder is. He's partnered with
Dana. But apparently he feels it's the bureau's
prerogative to poke its nose, and the tax payers money,
into the personal affairs of its agents. In which case
he can explain to his superiors why he used those
credentials, for non-bureau business, to gain access to
my home," Waterston seethed, drawing their attention to
the badge Mulder still held in his hand.

"Daniel, Maggie invited Agent Mulder into the house. She
thought it might be beneficial to discuss things out of
the prying eyes of your neighbors," Mark admonished,
trying to calm Daniel down with his explanation.

"Oh...she did, did she? And who gave Maggie permission
to invite ANYONE into MY home, let alone some love
struck agent who hides behind a bureau badge in order to
gain the information he seeks to bolster his voyeuristic
perversions."

"Dad!"

"Dr. Waterston, I'd be more then happy to discuss my
'voyeuristic perversions' with you down at the bureau. I
just thought you might prefer we discuss things in a
less formal atmosphere. I had no idea that you would be
so opposed to me stopping by your home. Is there any
particular reason why you might find this offensive?"
Mulder queried, his eyes steely as they met Waterston's
own angry gaze.

Apparently realizing how out of control he was, Mulder
saw Dr. Waterston consciously make an effort to pull
himself together. His entire demeanor changed before
Mulder's eyes. One minute he had been screaming like a
banshee, now he appeared calm and collected, just as
he'd been the first time they met.

"Agent Mulder, I'm sorry to have flown off the handle
like that. I realize you wouldn't be here if you didn't
have a reason. However, it seems to me your reasons may
be, shall we say, colored by your relationship with
Dana," Daniel said, his voice quiet and sure.

"Dr. Waterston, what would make you believe that Agent
Scully and I have anything more than a professional
relationship? That's the second time you've mentioned
that."

Waterston began to speak, then stopped as though he
reconsidered something. His eyes shifted from Maggie, to
Mark, and back to Mulder. Arrogance filled not only his
gaze, but his stance as well. He stood taller, more
confident.

"Agent Mulder, why are you here? Why did you need to
stop by my home?"

"Perhaps, Dr. Waterston, you'd like to discuss this in
private... inside," Mulder asked, his eyes tracking the
curious, sideways looks between Maggie and Mark.

"No...let's do it here; I have nothing to hide from my
daughter. What do you want?"

Reaching into his pocket, Mulder withdrew several
pictures. He flipped the first one over, and heard
Maggie's gasp as she registered the photo's image.

"I know that person...that's...that woman, Dr. Azar.
The one that helped dad when he was in the hospital,"
she whispered, her face suddenly ashen.

"Dr. Waterston have you ever seen this woman before?"
Mulder asked, his eyes unwavering, ignoring Maggie's
obvious distress.

With barely a glance at the picture, Waterston raised
his head, looking Mulder directly in the eye. Holding
his gaze, he said,

"No. I have not."

Slowly Mulder turned over several more pictures, handing
them one at a time to Waterston. Each one was macabre
and surreal, and stacked together they were like some
horrific deck of playing cards.

Maggie slumped against Mark as the final picture changed
hands. She appeared anxious and distraught, her skin the
color of eggshells. Yet Waterston did not register her
torment. He was mesmerized with the pictures, his
expression, placid and serene. Gently he touched each
image, until finally, as though shaking himself from a
trance, he turned the photos over and raised his eyes.

Shoving them together in a neat pile, he dangled the
crime scene photos from his hand. Then he glanced at his
daughter, seeing her shaken countenance for the first
time.

"Mark, I think you had better take Maggie inside. I
think she needs to sit down," Waterston directed.
"I'll finish up with Agent Mulder and check on her
in a moment."

"Actually, Daniel. I think I'm gonna take Maggie home,"
Mark said, watching Maggie nod her head in affirmation.
"I think she'd feel better there. We'll call
you...later."

Mark, with his arm slipped tightly around Maggie's
shoulders, walked her towards their truck. Settling her
into the passenger seat, he got behind the wheel. With
hardly a backward glance he peeled out of the driveway
into the darkened street.

"Dr. Waterston, now that our audience has departed,
let's cut the bullshit," Mulder said, his voice low and
charged.

"Exactly what are you referring to, Agent Mulder? I've
told you I don't know Dr. Azar, and if you are by any
means intimating I knew these other women, I believe
it's time I called my attorney."

Taking the photos from Dr. Waterston's outstretched
fingers, Mulder slipped them back inside his suit
pocket. "You seemed rather taken with the photos, Dr.
Waterston...almost mesmerized. Are you certain these
women are unfamiliar to you."

"Agent Mulder, I know you don't like me. You don't like
the fact that I have a relationship with your 'partner'.
And-"

"-had a relationship, Dr. Waterston. According to Scully
that was over long ago, and she quite clearly informed
you of that."

"Scully? How intimate...perhaps, I was wrong. Perhaps
your interest in me stems from the fact you are getting
nowhere with Dana. Is that it, Agent Mulder... unrequited
sexual tension? I hear it can be a real bitch," Waterston
sneered into Mulder's face.

Turning his back on the agent, Daniel searched for his
house keys. Throwing the words over his shoulder as he
slid the key into the lock, Daniel whispered, "Just
between you and me, Fox. It's difficult with a strong
willed woman; she has a mind of her own, and seems to
think she knows what's best for herself."

"Is that what happened here?" Mulder asked, grabbing
Daniel by the arm and spinning him back around.
Waterston dropped the keys to the ground as Mulder
shoved the picture of Dr. Janice Leonard in his face.

"She thought she knew what was best for herself? She
dared to ignore the great Dr. Waterston...just like Dana
did all those years ago."

Shrugging off Mulder's hand, Waterston bent and picked
up his keys.

"Dana made her decisions, Agent Mulder. I may not have
agreed with them, but she's a big girl, and she chose to
live her life her own way. I think, however, she's been
seeing the error of those ways. Like I told her when
she visited me in the hospital, she was there because of
what she secretly longed for...that which you cannot
provide," Waterston whispered, his gaze resolute.

Sliding the key once more into the front door lock,
Waterston dismissed Mulder with his body language. No
longer talking, he turned the key until the deadbolt
snapped free.

Refusing to be dismissed, Mulder took several steps
forward into Waterston's space. He firmly grabbed the
doctor's arm again, spinning him around to face him once
more. This time Mulder pressed his body firmly against
the doctor's, backing him up against the brick wall outside
the front door. With his forearm pressed tightly against
his throat, Mulder quietly spoke.

"Let me be succinct, and perfectly clear, Dr. Waterston.
I_know_you_killed_these_women. I know it, without a
doubt. I can't prove it yet, but I will-"

"-look, Agent Mulder."

"Don't interrupt, 'Daniel'. Somewhere in that twisted
brain of yours you've gotten the idea that you know
what's best for people, what's best for Scully.
Something's snapped, Doctor. Maybe you don't even
realize it. But you are punishing these women for the
choice Dana made all those years ago. It's only a matter
of time before I can pin these murders on you. And I
promise you, I will."

Dr. Waterston brought his arms up between them, shoving
at Mulder's forearm, pushing him back several feet.
Mulder considered his options, tamping down the rage
that boiled within him as he contemplated the monster
before him.

"Agent Mulder, you will leave, NOW. If you are not off
my property within the next 30 seconds, I will be
calling the police, my attorney, and whoever else might
claim you at the bureau. You need a leash, Agent Mulder.
I'm surprised they allow you out with unsupervised
visits," Dr. Waterston seethed, ignoring Mulder's
threats.

As though he had gained his second wind, Waterston
continued, "No wonder Dana has so much discontent... and
struggles with the knowledge of her mistakes. I'd thi-"

"Let me tell you what you'll think. You will stay away
from Dana Scully. You will not come near her. You will
not even breathe the same air she does. If you think
I'm going to let her become the next victim of your
psychotic, delusional state, you are dead wrong. You
will stay the hell away from her, you son of a bitch...
because, Dr. Waterston..." Mulder paused for
emphasis, walking forward once more into his space.

"If I see you anywhere near her, I_will_kill_you. Do I
make myself clear? Hang the consequences, I will
take_you_out."

With that Mulder turned and headed back down the
driveway to his car. His body trembled with restrained
anger, realizing Dr. Waterston was too far-gone to
listen to anything he said.

Sliding behind the wheel, Mulder pulled his cell phone
from his pocket. "Matthews, I'm leaving. Get your ass
over here. I want the good doctor buttoned up
tight...Yeah, I've pushed his buttons, and I don't want
him out of the house without a tail. Understand? He does
not leave this house...I don't want him going out
tonight trolling...uh...huh... he's wound tight. But
that's what I wanted. We'll wait for Dr. Waterston to
make a mistake."

Punching the 'end call' button on his phone, Mulder
turned his key in the ignition, and pulled away from the
curb. As he picked up speed, he looked into his rearview
mirror. Dr. Waterston still stood on the entryway
outside his front door. If looks could kill, Mulder knew
he'd be a dead man.


AGENT SCULLY'S HOTEL ROOM, BOSTON
11:30P.M.

Scully wrapped her robe tightly around her body,
reveling in the warmth. It had been a long day. From the
moment she'd left Mulder in his office that morning,
until she'd stepped from that elevator half an hour ago,
she had not stopped running. Meeting after meeting with
regards to her findings for the task force had kept her
so busy she hadn't even had the time or energy for
dinner. Now she was so tired, the thought of chewing was
ludicrous, no matter how hungry she might be.

And her shadow...Assistant Director Skinner, had made his
presence known ever since he spoke on the phone with
Mulder. If he weren't in direct contact with her, he had
someone else acting as his eyes at all times. She knew
it was Mulder's doing, and their boss's attempt to keep
her safe.

He'd finally given in, after repeated prodding on her
part, and told her what Mulder had said. If she hadn't
been so damned busy, she would have strung them both up
by their Y-chromosomes. As it was, she'd barely had
time to breathe, let alone worry that her A.D. might be
worrying too much about her welfare.

She'd finally shook him for the evening, but not before
he'd insisted on examining her hotel room. With
confidence that Daniel wasn't hiding in her closet, or
under her bed, Skinner had finally retired to his
connecting room. He had been like an overprotective
bulldog, but his intent had been commendable.

Hitting speed dial she lay back against the pillows, her
fingers trailedacross the lip of a glass of ice water.
Skinner had even gone to the ice machine for her,
determined that she not even do something as trivial as
that on her own.

"Mulder."

"Mulder, thanks for the watchdog...It's not every day a
girl gets a gorgeous man-servant at her beck and call,"
Scully purred, feeling not the least bit guilty with her
intimation. "I never knew what it could be like having
the A.D. wanting to service my every need, Mulder."

Scully heard Mulder's choked breathing as he struggled
with words. "He told you, didn't he?"

"Told me what, Mulder? Told me that you think my former
lover is a serial killer? Or told me that you thought
the Assistant Director should become my very personal
bodyguard?"

"Scully, I didn't have time to explain everything to
you. I'm still gathering evidence, but suffice it to say
that your friend, Dr. Waterston, is not a very nice man.
In fact, he may make Ted Bundy look like a choirboy."

With an exasperated huff, Scully said, "Look, Mulder. I
told you that you'd have to prove to me that Daniel was
involved with Colleen's murder...that I wouldn't blindly
follow you down this alley. Have you gotten proof? Is
that what you are trying to tell me?"

"Scully, not only did he murder Dr. Azar, but I believe
he may have killed as many as seven other women in the
last ten years-"

"Mulder, you are crazy! There's no way Daniel is some
psychotic serial killer. You can't prove that-"

"No, I can't, not yet. But I have enough circumstantial
evidence linking him to these women that even you will
have to listen to me. I'll show you tomorrow when you
get home. What time will you get in, Scully?"

Rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand, Scully
realized she was long past exhaustion. And with Mulder's
wild allegations circling her brain, she knew sleep
would be difficult tonight.

"I'll be in early, Mulder. I should be at the office by
9:30. There's really nothing more I can do here."

"Well you can sleep safely, Scully. I have a tail on
Waterston. My guy's making sure he doesn't leave the
house. If he does, he'll call me...I miss you, Scully."

Sighing, Scully whispered into the phone, "I miss you,
too, you obstinate ass. I'll be home tomorrow, early.
Have the coffee ready?"

"Ah...Scully, you know I make shitty coffee," Mulder
whined.

"I know...but I've acquired a taste for it, kind of like
the man who makes it."

"Goodnight, Scully...I love you."

"I love you, too, Mulder," Scully replied, hanging up
the phone. Untying her robe, she let it slip to the
floor. Pulling back the covers she slipped between the
sheets. As she turned out the light, she thought about
tomorrow. She'd really have to see Daniel now. She
needed to get to the bottom of this before Mulder's
allegations got any wilder.

Daniel could not be a serial killer, could he?



CHAPTER NINE:

NEXT MORNING

Sitting at his mahogany desk, he stares...transfixed

...at absolutely nothing.

Beneath his feet and spread across the plush, sand
colored carpeting like colorfully scattered fallen
leaves, are dozens of photographs. The macabre,
disheveled display vividly illuminates his madness, his
final break with reality. Intermingled are photos of him
and a vibrant, young medical student with shoulder
length scarlet hair, the visage of his smiling,
fourteen-year-old daughter, and the haunting faces of
dead women.

The protege, the legacy, and the damned.

Daniel tenderly holds two pictures - one, taken just a
week ago, is of Maggie and Mark, sitting on a porch
swing. Their laughing faces tell it all. His daughter
had been so happy. Briefly, he had embraced a son-in-
law.

The other is of Dana, her lips adorned with a shy,
wistful smile as her partner shoves a lock of
hair behind her ear. A year ago, when the urge to see
her had nearly consumed him with its intensity, Daniel
had been bold. Coming close enough to have been
detected, he'd taken several shots of her and Mulder
on anapparent lunch break.
 
Sighing, Daniel reaches into the desk drawer and pulls
out a pair of scissors. Gently holding the portrait of
his daughter, he methodically cuts Mark's image from the
picture, being careful not to damage Maggie's likeness
in any way. He lets the paper scrap slowly float to the
floor where it lands among the chaotic ruin.

Picking up Dana's picture, he repeats the process,
removing all signs of Mulder. Only this time his
scissors' slice through the tiny likeness until there is
nothing left but glossy confetti littered across his
desk like candy sprinkles atop a birthday cake.

Holding the two mutilated photos, he smiles, reflecting
upon his girls and the innocence and naivete of youth.
Each is so very different in appearance, in aptitude, in
all that really counts, and yet, they are so much alike.
Both are brilliant; both have the world at their feet.

If they choose wisely...

With that thought, his smile fades, wiped away as
quickly as it comes, leaving behind only the mask of a
maniac. Daniel's feverish eyes frantically track his
study, searching, seeking, desperate for something...he
can't remember, but something he knows has to be there.

Finally, recollection stirs him and he pushes up from
his chair. He walks across the room to the seascape
painting hanging from the wall, pausing to reflect on
its grandeur. It is an ocean view of La Jolla on that
perfect day, a commissioned piece from an artist who'd
painted everything to his rigorous specifications. It
is another reminder of his and Dana's deep abiding love.

Grasping the frame's edge, he pulls it towards him,
swinging the painting out on a secreted hinge. It is
old-fashioned, a wall safe hidden behind a portrait.
Archaic and un-poetic it may be, but comfortable to him
like the rest of this office sanctuary.

He twirls the tiny numbers, and waits for the tumblers
to click into place. Finally, Daniel yanks the lever
down, revealing the safe's interior. He reaches inside
and pulls out a handgun.

Removing it, he takes the unfamiliar weight into his
hand, turning it over and over, palming its smoothness.
As he familiarizes himself with the cold steel, he
slides it against the stubble on his cheek, caressing
it, stroking it, and loving it. With resolve he places
it into the waistband of his slacks.

As he walks by the desk, he trails his fingers through
the confetti remains of Mulder's presence. Picking up
the mangled photos of Maggie and Dana, he shoves them
into his pocket. This time, as he exits his haven, he
doesn't worry about locking locks, or turning off
lights. There are more important things on his mind.

It's time to protect the ones he loves.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

HOOVER BUILDING
SAME TIME

Scully's heels clicked an agitated tempo against the
corridor's linoleum floors. Glancing at her tall,
imposing companion, she gave a rueful grimace as they
stopped outside his outer office door.

"Sir, I really think the bodyguard routine can stop now.
You are relieved of duty, soldier," she smiled even
though she'd had it up to here with both Mulder and
Skinner. "I'm sure I'm quite safe in the FBI
building."

"Agent Scully, until I get an update from Mulder, I'm
not leaving my post," Skinner replied, seemingly content
to carrry on with her armed services analogy.

"In that case, Sir, you are relieved," Mulder's voice
broke between them as he walked out of Skinner's office.
"Thank you for your diligence."

"Agent Mulder, you know the safety of my agents is
always paramount to me. I've done nothing I wouldn't do
for any one of my people."

"I know, Sir, but -"

"Damn it all to hell. When you two are finished flexing
your big Rambo muscles, puffing your plumage and
strutting like a couple of proud peacocks, let me know.
I have work to do," Scully said, throwing a disgusted
look at both of them as she headed for the elevators.

"Of course, I'll go only if you think I can possibly
descend to the basement on my own. I mean, you never
know what sort of nefarious creature might be hiding in
the bowels of Hoover," she snorted, ignoring her
colleague's stares.

"Something more nefarious than Mulder? Couldn't be,"
Agent Carlson joked, sliding over to make room for her
in the elevator.

"Oh, and when you two are finished discussing MY LIFE,
I'd appreciate a word with you, Mulder," Scully finished
as the elevator doors swished closed.

Skinner and Mulder stared at the elevator as though each
had just seen the eighth wonder of the world. Sighing,
Skinner opened his office door, saying, "You know,
Mulder, there's something about that woman and
elevators. It was on that very one that she once kissed
me."

"Then maybe you should go talk to her, Sir. When I tell
her what I've been up to, she's going to tell me that I
should pucker up and kiss her ass," he mumbled,
dejectedly walking toward the elevator.

"Don't even go there...Walter; don't even go there,"
Skinner murmured to himself, softly closing the door
behind him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

X-FILES BASEMENT OFFICE

"Ok, Scully, I'm sorry. I just-"

As he pushed open his office door and crossed the
threshold, Mulder's sentence was swallowed whole by
Scully's enthusiastic mouth, her tongue wickedly plying
open his lips and slithering past his teeth. As she
greedily gulped his words, she reached behind him,
locking the door.

Obviously, Mulder decided there are moments for
introspection and confession and this wasn't one of them,
because he responded in kind to her initiative. Groaning
he backed her up against the desk, his body firmly
pressed into her own.

Scully rubbed against him, purposefully giving response
to innuendo. This was pure seduction on her part, and
she was thoroughly enjoying it. She had ached for him
last night, and no matter his Neanderthal ways she knew
her safety was all that mattered to him. Sometimes that
could be more seductive and intoxicating than words.

Sliding her hands between them, she grasped the buckle
on his belt, removing the tiny metal piece from its
leather holes. Flicking open his slack's inner clasp,
she pulled the zipper tab, slowly sliding it down its
teeth. Inwardly she smiled, noticing his indrawn breath
as her hand skimmed his burgeoning erection. Completing
her maneuvers, she separated the edges of his slacks.

"Scully?"

"Sh..." she murmured, sensuously sliding her tongue
against his. Reveling in the salty tang that was he, she
pulled his tongue into her mouth, providing steady
suction to it with her lips, leaving no doubt as to her
intentions.

He was about to get very lucky.

Being the smart boy that he was, Mulder stepped up to
the plate. There was no need to coach him further; he
had every intention of hitting a homerun. He placed his
hands around her waist, momentarily lifting her against
him.

Realizing the cliche of the moment, but not really
giving a damn, she chuckled as he lifted her gently,
parking her fanny on the edge of his desk.

"Have you been delving into my video collection,
Scully?" Mulder asked, carefully removing each button on
her blouse from its mooring. "Because if you have, I
heartily approve."

"I'm improvising here, Mulder. Work with me. You're
always accusing me of over analyzing, not being able to
be spontaneous. I'm going with the moment."

As she continued to stroke him through his boxers,
Mulder groaned, "Any more spontaneous, Scully, and I
think we're gonna combust."

Finally, accomplishing his task he pulled her blouse's
silken edges apart, baring her to his hungry eyes. With
a mischievous look, he bent, his teeth grasping the
front closure of her bra, opening it.

Pushing aside the tiny silken scraps, he nuzzled at her
breasts, placing tiny butterfly kisses against them
until she grasped his head, guiding his course. Opening
his mouth, he encircled one erect nipple with his lips,
lathing it with the moisture from his mouth, then
greedily latching on.

Fighting the urge to just lay back and give in to the
intense feelings, Scully continued the work she'd begun.
She slid her hands into the top edges of his boxers,
drawing her fingers around in front to cup his erection.

She didn't need foreplay; she needed him.

Now.

Comprehension dawned as Mulder pulled back from his
previous task and slid his hands up under her skirt,
lifting it to her waist.

Sliding herself forward even farther to edge of the
desk, she wrapped her legs around his waist as he firmly
grasped her buttocks. Placing her hands at Mulder's
hips, she forcefully drew him into her.

A loud thud broke through the sounds of rustling
clothes, soft sighs and murmurs.

"What was that?" Mulder breathlessly asked, without
stopping any further to investigate. He was too busy
exploring the tender spots near her clavicle, marking
her with gentle suction.

Moaning, Scully's hands freed him from his
boxers, her hands impatiently stroking his straining
flesh.

"I believe that was the 'I dream of Jeannie' report. The
one that was due on Skinner's desk yesterday."

"Ah...well, he's waited this long, what's a few more
minutes?" Mulder replied, guiding himself into her.

Thankfully, she'd worn thigh highs so their joining was
swift and sure without the fumbling maneuvers of
divesting panty hose. One moment they'd been playing
around, the next he was filling her to completion, his
moans silenced against her breasts as he came.

Biting her tongue, she swallowed her own groans of
satisfaction until the only sounds heard in the office
were the rhythmic slapping of their bodies against each
other, the tiny squeak of the desk upon its castors, and
the harsh swallows of their heavy breathing.

As quickly as it had begun, it was finished, with each
spiraling high in climax. As Mulder started to pull
away, Scully sat up, wrapping her arms tightly around
his waist, holding him firmly against her. He sagged
into her embrace; his own arms enfolding her so much
that she wasn't sure where he ended and she began. Thus
they remained as their breathing softened, each coming
slowly back to reality.

Sliding his fingers up the back of her hair, he brought
them forward to her face, palming her cheeks within his
large hands. He was still within her body, even though
she felt the diminishment of his ardor. His eyes pierced
her, looking into her soul. She felt as though this was
allowing him more intimate entrance then that which
she'd just provided with her body.

Not backing down from the intensity of his gaze, she
paused, then whispered, "I missed you." Her lips grazed
once more at the corner of his mouth.

Slipping from within her, Mulder tenderly straightened
her skirt, and tucked himself back into his slacks.
Pulling one of her hands to his lips, he kissed her
fingers, his breath delicately nudging at each
fingertip.

"Welcome home, Scully. If I'd known one night apart
would fuel such passion, I'd have-"

"-still hated us being apart," Scully laughed, jumping
down from the desk, and heading for the door. She needed
to use the facilities down the hall.

"Exactly, Scully. As good as this was, I hate the
reasons for the homecoming."

"Before you're too smug, and your head gets any bigger,
I still expect answers. When I get back, you had better
be able to supply them, soldier," she said, her tone of
voice firm with its intent. "And I refuse to re-do that
report. If it's been ruined, you're fixing it."

"Yes, ma'am. Your wish is my command," he saluted, his
fingers waggling at the back of her head as she left the
office. Picking up the undamaged report from the floor,
he considered what he was going to have to tell her
about Daniel.

Perhaps going AWOL wasn't such a bad idea after all.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  

"You've taken wham, bam, thank you ma'am way too much to
heart, Mulder. Where the hell are you now?" Scully
hissed into her cell phone. "Is it your life's mission
to drive me insane?"

"I don't suppose you'd believe there was a UFO sighting
in the DC area, and they called me into investigate?"

"I'm the skeptic, Mulder, remember?" Scully groused,
pacing impatiently in Skinner's outer office. "I get
back from the washroom and find you've gone on the lamb
again...and to top it off, you haven't delivered that
report to Skinner, and now he's screaming for it. You
realize I have to explain how this 500-year-old smart-
ass genie lived in a carpet and not a bottle. I hate
you, Mulder."

"I'm sorry, Scully. My man called...the one I had tailing
Waterston. There's some concern there might have been
foul play at the good doctor's home. I'm here following
up on it."

Scully heard the excitement in Mulder's voice. He was up
to no good, and she knew it. "Where exactly are you,
Mulder. Don't tell me you have entered Daniel's home
without a search warrant?"

"Ok...Scully, I won't tell you that," came Mulder's
muffled and whispered reply.

"Damn it, Mulder. You can't just go in there. Anything
you find will be tainted by your illegal search. You
know that."

"Scully, I'm just responding to a neighbor's concern.
Apparently, there was some sort of a loud disturbance,
as though Waterston's house was being ransacked. When I
arrived, the woman from across the street was standing
in his driveway, pointing to his open front door.
Something's happened here, Scully. There's definitely
probable cause for me entering this home. And even if
there weren't, I'm beyond that."

"Mulder, what's going on? Your voice faded out. I can't
hear you," Scully asked, wishing she were with him.

"Scully, where are you?" Mulder's voice broke in after
several seconds.

"I told you; I'm getting ready to meet with Skinner to
go over this report."

"Good. Stay there. I'm on my way back. Scully, he's
insane. His home is trashed, as though a wild man's gone
through here. It looks like Colleen Azar's place, only
worse. And Scully, he has pictures...pictures of the
murder victims. There are even more than I realized."

Sitting down on the couch across from Kimberly's desk,
Scully stared, her gaze frozen on Skinner's closed door.
She didn't utter a sound, or move a muscle.

"Scully...Scully! Are you there?"

"Yes, Mulder. I'm here. I heard you.I just...just am
having trouble processing this."

"Hang on, Scully. I'm being beeped. Someone else's
trying to get through -"

"Agent Scully, are you alright?" Kimberly asked, her
concern evident on her features. "Can I get you some
water? You look pale."

"No...thanks, Kim. I'm fine. I just-"

Coming back on line, the urgency of Mulder's voice broke
through. "Scully, listen. My guy tailing Daniel has lost
him. I repeat; he lost him. Daniel picked up Maggie, but
then, somehow, alluded his tail. I don't know where he
is. Do not leave Skinner, Scully. I'm headed back to
Hoover. I should be there in fifteen minutes.
Scully...Scully, promise me that you'll stay put."

"I'm not going anywhere, Mulder. I'll see you when you
get back," Scully murmured, as their connection was
broken.


~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Scully felt as though the walls were closing in on her.
She couldn't breathe. Daniel...a serial killer, obsessed
with her. It couldn't be. Not the Daniel she'd known,
the one who had so enthralled a young, naive woman. He
had been obsessive, yes, to the point of distraction,
but he had never exhibited any psychotic tendencies.
This whole thing was a nightmare.

Scully stepped from the parking garage elevator,
entering the underground level. It had been twenty
minutes, and she knew Mulder should be pulling in
shortly. She had gotten tired of waiting inside for him.
Skinner had been pulled into a conference call and their
meeting had been cancelled. After practically pacing a
hole in the carpeting in front of Kim's desk, Scully
felt the need to remove herself from concerned, but
prying eyes.

Instead, she'd found her way here, having walked on
autopilot through the corridors. Looking across the lot,
she saw Mulder stepping from his car. He must have just
pulled in. He hadn't seen her yet.

"Mulder!"

"Scully, what are you doing down here?" he shouted,
aggravation evident in his voice as he realized she
hadn't stayed with Skinner. "Stay there; we need to go
back up and talk to Skinner."

Scully leaned against one of the pillars waiting for
Mulder to get to her. Perhaps, because her mind still
wandered, still tried to process the last couple of
days, Scully didn't immediately respond to the incoming
screech of tires.

A small BMW rounded the corner.

Mulder, regrettably, had been distracted, his body
bending over to pick up a picture that he'd dropped. It
wasn't until he heard Scully's voice, which only sounded
like a piercing shriek to her own ears, that he looked
up. His face barely had time to register shock before
the vehicle descended upon him. He twisted his body in
an attempt to avoid the car. But it was too little, too
late. With impact Mulder was thrown like a broken rag
doll across the hood and onto the cement floor, hitting
hard, and rolling between two cars.

Before Mulder even hit the ground, Scully was running,
trying to get to him. As she approached where his body
lay, prone and bleeding, the BMW screamed to a halt. Dr.
Waterston pointed a handgun out his window, directly
at her head.

"Get into the car, Dana," he urged, his voice insistent.

" You bastard! I...I have to see about Mulder. What have
you done?"

"I've removed a nuisance, an impediment to our future.
Get into the car, Dana. Now!"

Noting Scully's hesitation, Daniel directed his weapon
toward Mulder's still figure. Stroking the trigger with
his forefinger, he whispered," I suggest you get into
this car NOW, Dana, or I will make sure the man is
dead. It makes no difference to me."

Daniel's eyes blazed with insanity's fever. There was no
doubt; he'd pull the trigger.

"Maggie, open the door, sweetheart. That's it...slide
over, dear. Make room for Dana. But first, Dana," Daniel
paused, his gun never wavering from Mulder's unconscious
form, "hand me your weapon - handle first."

Sliding her service revolver from the holster beneath
her blazer, Scully held it out to him. As he brought it
inside his window, she stepped to the passenger side,
and squeezed into the small front seat next to a
traumatized Maggie.

Scully murmured a fervent prayer as Daniel's car sped
towards the exit. She prayed that whoever was watching
the parking garage security monitors would get to Mulder
quickly.

He had to be alive. There was no other alternative.

Even as they rammed through the garage exit gates,
sending pieces of striped plywood flying through the
air, she beseeched God for Mulder's life.


CHAPTER TEN:

MARK PETER'S HOME
SAME DAY

Scully's arms ached. It had been almost an hour since
Maggie had duct taped her hands securely behind her
back. As though Maggie had been in a trance, her body
following her father's directions without really
comprehending its actions, she had methodically
wrapped the sticky tape around Scully's wrists.
Regrettably, this time Scully wouldn't
be able to get her hands in front of her as she had
with Pfaster. Maggie had done her job too well.

At first, Scully had not tried to resist. As the car
had screamed out of the building and down the street,
she had felt sure it was only a matter of time before
they would be stopped. Daniel had kidnapped her from the
Hoover Building, not a playground. The parking garage,
supposedly, had video cameras.

At least that's what she had thought.

Daniel had maneuvered the small car with all the
finesse of a Nascar driver, skimming in and out of
alleyways and side streets, until he felt secure enough
to slow his speed.

She realized the quick capture she'd hoped for was not
going to happen.

Now, almost an hour later, he was pulling the BMW into
an unfamiliar driveway, and she was no closer to knowing
if Mulder was alive or dead.

She had forced herself to deny that pain, knowing that
if she succumbed to its sharp intensity, she might as
well curl up in a ball and wither away.

The garage door was open, revealing a red convertible,
its top up, parked within. The car was situated on
the right side of the garage, a vacant space, just
to its left.

"Dana?"

Hearing Daniel's soft entreaty, Scully turned her head
in his direction. His agitated state made her position
precarious enough; she didn't want to further inflame
him. She felt deep within her soul that Mulder
still lived, and she needed to stay alive in order
to return to him.

"Daniel. Please cut these bonds," she asked, her voice
barely above a whisper. "I promise to not make trouble,
but my arms are numb. I can't feel my fingers."

Daniel looked at her, his gaze reading the pain in her
eyes. Turning to Maggie he said, "Did you make the bonds
too tight, Maggie? Did you do as I said, or did you cut
off her circulation? There's no need for her to be in
any pain. I don't want that."

Maggie's terrified eyes did nothing more than vacantly
gaze out the windshield. Finally, as though her voice
came from far away, she replied, "I did as you said,
Dad. They aren't too tight."

"Good girl. I'm glad you listened to your old man. Now,
Maggie, here's what I want you to do. I want you to walk
to Mark's front door, open it, and ask him to step into
the garage. Tell him I'm having car trouble. Can you do
that, Maggie?" he asked, his fingers gently sliding
under her chin, turning it and lifting it towards him.

Not allowing her to pull away, he continued. "Can you
follow my instructions?"

Her lip trembling as she answered, she whispered, "Yes,
Dad, I'll do as you say."

"Good girl," he murmured, his fingers tightening against
her chin until she squealed in pain, "...Because if you
don't, Maggie, if you disobey me in any way, I will shoot
Dana. Then I will take this gun, and I will shoot Mark.
Do you understand? I will kill him right before your
eyes. You will be responsible for the deaths of two
people. Are you ready to accept the consequences for
your actions?"

"Yes."

"Good, now go get Mark."

Daniel opened the driver's side door and slid out of the
car. As Maggie slid across the seat, Scully shot him a
venomous look. Apparently, she communicated too much
because he stayed Maggie's forward motion.

"Maggie, honey, do one more thing for your old man, will
you, dear? I want you to wrap Dana's ankles with the
duct tape - good and securely, too. We don't want our
little agent getting ideas now, do we Agent Scully?"

"Daniel, why are you doing this? There's no need. If you
wanted to talk, all you had to do was ask. I'd have come
with you...there was no need to...hurt...to hurt Mulder,
or to kidnap us," Scully reasoned, her voice as measured
and calm as she could make it. "Please, Daniel, before
it's too late. Let us go."

"Dana, you and I will talk later. There's so much I need
to say to you, and I do regret the way this must be. But
it is your fault. I gave you every opportunity to come
to me. I did ask-"

"-Daniel I didn't understand. I didn't-"

"-My gifts were an invitation that you not only turned
down, but also repeatedly ignored. I can see you are as
strong willed as ever, and that my work with you will
take some time. But don't worry, Dana, every
relationship has its ups and downs; we'll get through
this. And when we're done, our love will have endured
and strengthened. Because you are the one."

As he spoke, Maggie bent down, and began winding the
tape around Scully's ankles. Finally, she looked up, her
eyes pleading with Scully for understanding. Taking the
tape between her teeth, she tore off the last strip, and
firmly patted it down before she straightened.

'Damn', Scully thought. It was bad enough when she
couldn't move her arms, now she was trussed up like a
Christmas goose about to be served up on grandma's
silver platter.

"Ok...that's good Maggie. Now go get Mark."

Maggie exited the car and began walking toward the front
door when Daniel began to gesture her away from the
front entrance.

Watching, Scully realized he was asking her to go into
the garage entry of the house.

Maggie slowly made her way forward, each step a
shuffled and torturous gallows walk. Daniel rummaged
around in the corner of the garage. Scully couldn't
see what he was doing, but she feared it wasn't good.

Looking around the car, still trying to figure some
means of escape, she briefly considered laying on the
horn. However, knowing Daniel would most definitely
start shooting, she resisted. There was no doubt his
mental state had moved beyond fragile to totally,
flaming psychotic. She feared for Maggie,
and now Mark, who would soon be coming to the door.

Scully could hear a male voice drawing near. With each
step closer to the garage that he took, his voice became
louder.

"Maggie, you know I'm lousy with cars, honey. I'm not
going to be any help. Are you sure you are feeling ok? I
think you need to come inside and lie down. Daniel and I
can handle the car situation. You look awful, like you
are going to faint or some-"

Mark's sentence was not completed. In horror, Scully
watched Daniel come up behind Mark where he smashed
a large flashlight against the young man's temple.
With a sickening thud and a groan, Mark collapsed
in a heap to the hard concrete floor, next to
the convertible.

Maggie quickly ran to Mark's prostrate form. Falling
to her knees beside him, she fluttered her hands
over him as though she desparately wanted to touch
him but was afraid of doing greater damage. With
trembling fingers she awkwardly began to push his
curly, auburn hair back from his forehead.

Maggie raised her head, tears streaking her face.
For the first time, Scully saw the smallest amount of
backbone in the girl as Maggie spat out words with
venomous hatred. Her voice soft, but damning with
its accusation.

"I hate you! Are you insane? That's it; I'm calling 911.
And if you choose, Father, you can shoot me because
that's the only way you are going to stop me!"

"Maggie!"

Daniel placed his weapon at Mark's temple, his intent
unambiguous.

Maggie froze. She could see the barrel nestled against
Mark's temple, and her father's psychotic resolve.
Gasping, she saw the flutter of Mark's eyelashes.

He was alive. And the actions she took now might alter
that fact.

Maggie's eyes sought out Dana. For the briefest of
seconds, each woman understood the other's pain. Maggie
knew first hand the torture Scully had endured leaving
Mulder in that parking garage. The only difference,
Maggie had faith that Mark was still alive.


Breaking through their reverie, Daniel's voice
commanded. "Maggie, get the car keys for Mark's convertible,
NOW. I know they're hanging just inside the door, on
that hook in his laundry room. He's predictable. I'll
give the boy that."

Scully nodded her head slightly, telling Maggie to
obey her father, and to do as he said. Understanding,
Maggie reached inside the door that entered  
the home's laundry room. She hurriedly pulled a key
chain off a hook.

Her voice tremulous, she asked, "What do you want me to
do? Please...please, don't shoot him."

"Get in the car, Maggie. I want you in the front seat.
Mark will be fine. It was a glancing blow. He's
only unconscious, at least for the moment. But if you
cross me again, I will not hesitate to pull the trigger.
Do_you_understand?"

Her shoulders slumping in resignation, Maggie slipped
quietly into the passenger side of the convertible,
where she sat, a frozen, lifeless statue.

"Maggie, honey, catch!" Daniel shouted as he threw her
the keys. Because her reflexes were dulled by fear,
Maggie watched the keys travel into the open passenger
door, bounce against her leg, and onto the garage
floor. She looked down at them as if they were foreign
objects she couldn't identify. Finally, as though
shaking her head from a dense fog, she picked them
up, and looked back questioningly to her father.

"Maggie, I want you to start the car, and pop the trunk,
Dear."

Scully, hearing Daniel's last direction for his
daughter, felt her heartbeat escalate, and her palms
begin to sweat. She was not going in that trunk. There
had to be something she could do.

Daniel sauntered over to the BMW, and opened the
passenger side door. He must have seen the fear in
Scully'seyes because he attempted to soothe her. As
his hands reached to stroke the hair from her face,
she turned away from him, leaving his hand dangling in
mid-air. She couldn't see the way his fist clenched
into a tight ball as he tried to control his anger.

"Dana, I know your fantastic mind is working this a mile
a minute, trying to achieve that perfect scenario that
will allow you to incapacitate me and escape. I'd think
no less of you. Of course that's the case. Please, don't
waste your breath trying to deny it."

"I won't, Daniel."

"Good...I'm glad to see we still can communicate. This is
how it's going to go, Dana. I am going to lift you, and
place you in that trunk. It's not a warm day; you will
be fine back there. I can't risk having you in the
car knowing that your only desire is to overpower me in
some fashion. I can't have that Dana. I won't."

"Daniel, look, you know this can't work. The police and
the FBI will be looking for us. It's only a matter
of time before they track the car."

"I know that, but I have a little time. That's all I
need. No one knows about Maggie and Mark except Agent
Mulder, and I don't think he'll be able to communicate
that information to anyone. This house and this car are
in Mark's name, not Maggie's. So it will take awhile
before they make the connection. That's all I need, just
a little while."

At the sound of Mulder's name, Scully felt tears
threatening to overwhelm her. Tamping her emotions as
far down as she could, she painfully swallowed. The
hard lump in her throat must surely have traveled
from her breaking heart.

Trying a conciliatory tact, Scully began again. "Daniel,
if I promise not to oppose you, would you please not
put me in the trunk?"

His gaze softened and his demeanor relaxed as though
he was giving serious consideration to her words.
But just as she thought he would relent, he
straightened, ramrod stiff once more. She knew she'd
lost the argument.

Scully tried to remember where he'd put her weapon. She
hadn't seen it since he'd taken it from her. Her eyes
skimmed his torso, searching until they came to rest
upon the gun, tucked behind him, into the waistband of his
slacks.

With her arms and legs bound the way they were,
there was no way she'd be able to maneuver it into her
hand. It was a worst case scenario, all the way around.

She jumped as Daniel slammed her door. She watched
him stride over to the driver's side, where he slid
into the seat. Starting the ignition, he threw the car
into drive, and moved up into the empty space in
the garage. Scully gasped as she realized Daniel had
come within a few scant inches of Mark's body.

Cutting the engine, he came around to the BMW's
passenger side. Yanking open the door, he eyed Scully
with wariness.

"Dana, we can do this the easy way or the hard
way, but either way you will be going into that trunk.
Do I make myself clear?"

Before she could answer, he placed the gun he'd been
holding on the roof of the BMW, and bent down,
sliding his arms under her. There was no sense
struggling; it would accomplish nothing. With Maggie
zoned out, and Mark unconscious, she had no one to help
even if she could distract Daniel with her struggles.

Even as she felt herself lifted like some small child,
the analytical portion of her told her that fact.
It wasn't until she saw the gaping maw of that
open trunk, that the logical portion of her brain
gave way to the emotional dark side of her psyche.

She was not going into that trunk.

And if begging might stop it, she was not beyond trying.

"Daniel, no, please don't put me in there. You don't
understand. I can't go into that trunk. Daniel, please
... if you love me, you won't put me there. Daniel, I'll
go insane. I'll die in there ... Daniel."

Even as she said the words, she realized she'd do about
anything to keep from being put into another car trunk.
Scully hated her insecurities, her mind-numbing fear.
She knew this wasn't Duane Barry and that this situation
was far removed.

In spite of that, she shook with terror as the trunk
door closed, removing with it the light, and leaving
only the darkness within.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
 
GEORGETOWN MEDICAL CENTER
SAME TIME

Skinner paced the hallway, his shoes impatiently
sounding his agitated state. However, it was his voice
that told the real story as he barked orders into his
cell-phone.

"I do not understand, Agent Cobb. We are talking about
the life of one of our Agents. How the hell did that
car ever make it out of the parking garage to begin
with? We're not talking about the clandestine actions of
a well-organized terrorist cell. We're talking about one
lone, crazed psychotic who has Agent Scully. I want
that car found, and I want it found now," he ordered,
his face flushed, even as he tried to keep himself under
control.

Even as he listened to Agent Cobb's reply, his worried
eyes tracked the corridor. Grunting every once in
awhile to let Cobb know he was still there, Skinner
really was only half listening. 'Where in the hell is
that doctor?' he thought. 'He said the tests would only
take a few minutes, and that was 45 minutes ago.'

"Look, Agent Cobb, I know you guys are doing your best.
I realize that...I'm just... Let's just say this one hits
too close to home, understand? Good, keep me posted.
I'll be there shortly; I just need to confirm the status
of Agent Mulder...."

His voice trailed off as he motioned Frohike over to
where he stood. The little man had just rounded the
corner, practically barreling into a candy striper
carrying flowers.

"Let me know, the minute you get anything...and I mean
ANYTHING, Agent Cobb," Skinner said, his finger hitting
the 'end call' button.

"How's Mulder?" Frohike asked with no preamble or social
niceties. "And what do you have on Scully?"

Skinner knew there was no point in keeping Frohike in
the dark. The rest of his merry band was probably
already doing their best in pursuance of this case
anyway. It would be better to pool resources, than to
shut him out just because of protocol.

"Mulder's having tests run, CT scans and an MRI. We
should know more after that. Apparently, he has a broken
arm and collar bone. He's no longer unconscious, but
he's dazed, and still disoriented, more out than in."

Nodding his head, Frohike asked, "Does he know about
Scully?"

"No. He hasn't been that cognizant yet. I don't think he
realizes what's happening to him. He's still too fuzzy."

"I'm not sure what will be better, a fully cognizant,
rabid Mulder...fighting to get to her, even at the expense
of his own health...because you know that's what will
happen, or a semi-comatose Mulder who's unable to help
us find her, and will never forgive himself if we don't
get to her in time," Skinner muttered, obviously not
caring for either scenario.

"Rock and a hard place, Assistant Director. That's what
this is," Frohike acknowledged, empathy lacing his
words. "You've just described their lives."

His voice tinged with regret, Skinner said, "I know,
Frohike, and I can't tell you-"

A harried and flustered doctor slipped into the waiting
room. As he headed in their direction, Skinner
examined the countenance of his agent's doctor.

What had Mulder done now?



CHAPTER ELEVEN:

GEORGETOWN MEDICAL CENTER
LATE THAT EVENING

"Assistant Director Skinner?"

"Dr. Westin, how is Agent Mulder?" Skinner asked,
concerned by the doctor's dire expression. He could tell
that whatever the physician was going to say, he was not
going to like it.

"Is Agent Mulder alright? Have there been complications?"

"Well, if you consider the patient getting up, accosting
one of our male nurses, and walking out of the test, a
complication...then we have complications," Dr. Westin
muttered, his displeasure evident.

"In thirty years of medicine, I've never seen anything
like it. That man needs psychological help. He's a loose
cannon."

Angry with Mulder's Houdini act, Skinner's jaw clinched.

"Dr. Westin, exactly where did my Agent go?"

Just as he spoke the question, Skinner heard the doors
swoosh open behind him, and knew his answer. He didn't
need the doctor's disgruntled reply, but he was privy to
it anyway.

"Right behind you, and if you don't do something to get
him under control, I'm calling security. As it is, I
still feel it's inadvisable for that man to be up walking
around. He could have a severe head injury. Minimally, he
has a concussion."

"Tell him, Skinner. I'm a bonehead. No need to worry
about me," Mulder said, his voice tensed, and laced with
anger.

"Where is she, Sir? Where's Scully?"

"Mulder, you need to go back and do the tests. We have
agents looking for her. We'll find her."

"With all due respect, Sir, you know I'm the best person
to find her. If you think I'm going to go lie down inside
some giant lipstick tube, letting people take Polaroid
snapshots of my head, while Scully's in the hands of a
madman, you are more crazy than HE thinks I am," Mulder
snapped, tilting his head in Dr. Westin's direction.

Trying once more to appeal to Mulder's logical side, Dr.
Westin argued, "You only have a temporary cast, Agent
Mulder, and that collar bone needs to be set. You can't
run around without causing yourself further injury, and
I'll be-"

"Look, Dr. Westin, I'm checking myself out of here, with
or without your approval. And I take full responsibility
for my actions. You are off the hook," Mulder hissed,
turning his back on the doctor as though he was an
annoying pest.

With a painful grimace that he couldn't hide, Mulder
continued.

"Sir, what do you have? Please...please, fill me in."

"This is against my better judgement, Agent Mulder. But I
don't have time to baby-sit you. The parking garage
security camera shows Scully being forced, at gunpoint,
into Dr. Waterston's BMW. His daughter, Maggie, was also
in the car. It is unclear if Maggie were in collusion
with her father, or if, like Scully, she were another
victim."

Noting how Mulder cringed with his use of the word
'victim' in the same sentence as 'Scully', Skinner
proceeded with the rest of tale. "The BMW managed to
allude local police and our garage security...apparently,
our guy on duty had been to a bachelor party the night
before, and not gotten any sleep. So instead of
monitoring the security videos he-"

"Are you saying, Sir, the car wasn't stopped because some
ass-hole fell asleep?"

"Yes. He woke up when he heard the BMW squealing towards
the exit. He managed to get the gate down, but was not
able to implement the other security measures before
Waterston crashed through it. By the time the guard
alerted additional personnel, Waterston had a head start,
and had disappeared."

Running his fingers through his spiky hair, Mulder turned
to Frohike. "Come on, man, you gotta have something for
me..."

"Look, Mulder, Langly and Byers are checking through
every piece of information we've collected on Waterston.
We haven't-"

{{BRIIIING...BRIIIING...}}

Skinner snapped open his cell phone. Lifting it to his
cheek, he tersely replied, "Skinner."

Watching Mulder's expectant, but worried expression,
Skinner shook his head from side to side, letting his
agent know that Scully hadn't been found yet. Although,
by the sound of the information they were getting, at
least they finally had something to go on.

"I want you to continue to interrogate Peters. Make sure
there's not something that he missed." Skinner said,
terminating his phone call.

"Mulder, do you know a Mark Peters?"

"Yeah, that's Maggie Waterston's fiance. I met him once,
at...Daniel's house," Mulder said, bouncing on the balls
of his feet, obviously forcing himself to stay put when
all his instincts told him he should hit the road
looking for Scully.

"What does he know?"

"Waterston cold cocked Peters with a flashlight, and
stole his convertible. He left his BMW in Peters' garage.
I'm assuming he transferred the women to the new car.
Although he has several hours head start, we at least
have a description of the convertible. There's an APB out
on it."

Mulder began to pace, his nervous energy finally giving
way to motion as he strode the corridor, back and forth
like some restless zoo cat. Skinner watched him,
puzzled by the words Mulder was silently muttering to
himself. Although Skinner couldn't quite make them all
out, he swore he heard Mulder whisper 'Shakespeare' and
'daisies.'

Stopping dead in his tracks, Mulder swung around,
urgently grabbing Frohike's arm with his good hand, the
other, trapped in a sling, hardly seemed to give him
pause.

"Frohike, have the guys check for property...a beach house,
a condominium...something on the coast. Daniel's gonna take
Scully to water, to the ocean. I know it. His perfect
weekend with her was in La Jolla, at the beach. All the
bastard's gifts were supposed to elicit memories from
Scully of that time. Frohike, he's taking her to the
coast! You have to find me the location. Before it's too
late, man... Before I'm too late, again." Mulder
whispered, his voice choked with suppressed emotion.

With the utterance of his last words, Mulder turned to
Skinner. His eyes haunted by the past, pleading with his
superior, Mulder whispered once more, "Please, Sir...don't
let me be too late."


~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Darkness goes by different names.

Frightening: When Scully was four, darkness was large and
scary. Its dimness only held boogiemen in the closet and
monsters under the bed. It provided fodder for an older
brother, Bill, who delighted in jumping out at her, and
telling her ghost stories that set her pre-school teeth
chattering in fear.

But even in this obscurity, there was light.

Mom was always there to chase Bill out of her room, and
scold him for his poor behavior. Missy, sometimes, if
Dana were very scared, would lend her younger sister one
of her special stuffed animals, and allow Dana to sleep
with her in her bed. And if Dana promised to not hog all
the covers, Missy would even allow the nightlight, at
least until Dana went to sleep.

DELIGHT: When Dana was older, there was the darkness that
finally arrived every Fourth of July. That darkness
young Dana longed for as she bugged her parents for
sparklers, and other small firecrackers. Until, finally,
about 9:30 P.M. she'd start to feel the impending night
slowly slide into the sky. She'd be so excited she could
hardly contain the joy.

Dana had been too thrilled to dread that darkness. It
heralded firefly catching, and the ritual of sticking the
glowing bugs into big glass mayonnaise jars, with hole
punched lids. It partnered drippy popcicles that slipped
with sweet, grape glops down her arm because she ate them
too slowly in the July heat. And, more importantly, it
signified a grandparent's tender touch, the petting of
her cherry red hair as Dana leaned a sticky chin upon
grandma's welcoming knee.

This darkness was a moment alive with exciting and
breathtaking possibilities, especially when that first
loud BOOM signaled the coming attraction: a sky lit up in
the spectacular, brilliant colors of summer, tones that
illuminated faces of family and friends with violets,
reds and golds as they burst forth out of the inky black
sky.

SECRETS: As a teenager the darkness provided
opportunities for exploration and secrets. There was the
time Dana had pilfered the cigarettes from her mother's
purse, and slipped outside to inhale a forbidden fruit.
It wasn't the cigarette that appealed to her, but the
prohibited indulgence, and her small act of rebellion.

There was awkward and surreptitious groping with boys in
the darkness, explorations of her emerging sexuality,
finally culminating, in a less than fulfilling moment,
with Marcus, the 12th grade love of her life.

PASSION: This darkness beheld Mulder's lips warmly
sliding against Scully's own, his fingers trailing
sensitive tracks down her glistening bare back and
buttocks as she lay stretched out on top of him, wrapped
in the afterglow of their lovemaking. The quiet solitude
of 3 A.M. interludes was sought after like precious
jewels; it came so infrequently. And it had been denied
them for so long.

LOVE: Even within the somber, depressing blackness
she'd encountered since joining the FBI, she found love.
When the world was turned upside down, and the depravity
of monsters, and the cloying cigarette smoke of pure evil
itself, filled her lungs with its presence, love
prevailed.

Mulder's love overflowed into the darkness.

He was the constant, the light that permeated the gloom.
After the agonizing oppression of a closet that Scully had
been pushed into, waiting the deadly, evil desires of
Pfaster's insanity, Mulder's presence had filled her
heart with light as he wrapped her tightly within his
embrace. And after the second deadly encounter,
her partner's presence had helped hold her together
once more.

Mulder's luminescence had found her, even in Antarctica, in
the dark bowels of an alien ship, her body lifeless and
frozen within a suffocating icy cubicle. And with his
gentle radiance, he gave her life back to her, breathing
air into starving lungs, and love into a guarded, closed
off heart.

HORROR BEYOND WORDS: However, it was the one suffocating
blackness that Mulder's light could not permeate, that
Scully remembered now. The one time when the ominous
gloom could not be penetrated, and she had succumbed to
its terror to the point she had shut down. Her memories
were fragmented and suspect, but a coping mechanism that
allowed her to forget the abduction and trauma she had
endured.

And it had all begun with the closing of a car trunk and
the insanity of a madman.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

ENROUTE TO BETHANY BEACH, DELAWARE
NEXT DAY, 5:00 A.M.

After they'd crossed the Bay Bridge coming out of DC,
Mulder hadn't spoken. He had slouched down in the
passenger seat, his gaze unblinking as he searched out
the window. It was as though he was sure he'd come across
Mark's stolen convertible parked nonchalantly among mini
vans and strollers at the Outlet Mall.

It didn't matter that it was the middle of the night, and
everything was couched in inky blackness. Mulder still
scrutinized all he could see.

Mile after mile of trees, fruit stands, small houses,
two-lane roads, and gas stations had provided ample
opportunity for Mulder to sit and think. For every hour
they lost, he added another desperate premonition to his
repertoire. Even as Skinner drove them toward the coast,
the A.D.'s constant updates with FBI and local law
enforcement did nothing to alleviate the dread that
clutched at Mulder's chest.

Scully had been in the hands of a madman for over twelve
hours, and he didn't know where she was.

He suspected that he knew, however. Daniel had a beach
house in Bethany Beach, Delaware. That's where Mulder
and Skinner were headed; that's where local law
enforcement was canvassing. If Mulder were wrong, he
had pulled valuable resources away from other areas,
and perhaps, doomed Scully in the process.

He could not be wrong.

Mulder watched the highway signs as Skinner pulled off of
Route 9, turning south onto Route 1. It was only 16 more
miles to Bethany Beach, 16 more interminable miles to
Scully.

"Mulder, how are you doing? How's the pain?"

"Tolerable. I've felt worse. The Tylenol's helping, but
not nearly as much as the good stuff...but I can't...I can't
take that right now. I need to keep my head."

Shaking his head with affirmation and understanding,
Skinner's eyes concentrated on the road before him.

"Sir? Have they heard anything? Have they found the beach
house?" Mulder asked, his voice hesitant, without the
usual bravado that accompanied every query.

"I just talked with the local sheriff. They found
Waterston's  house. It's in an upscale gated community on
the beach side. The convertible is not there, but they
have stationed people around the perimeter of the house.
They haven't entered yet."

Nodding his head, while he swallowed the large lump that
had taken up residence in his throat, Mulder asked, "Have
they questioned the neighbors? Has anyone seen the
convertible?"

"Apparently, no one's noticed anyone at the house in
several weeks. As far as Waterston's neighbors are
concerned, the house is empty and has been for some
time."

Mulder digested this information as Skinner continued.

"Mulder, are you sure about this? It doesn't make sense
for Waterston to bring Scully to a place he knows we are
bound to investigate. He'd have to figure we'd check this
place out."

Chewing on his bottom lip, Mulder sighed, "Sir, I know it
seems like a foolish move on his part, but I know
Waterston's taken Scully here. I can't explain it, Sir,
but I feel...I feel her."

"Ok. We should be there in five minutes. I'll have the
sheriff's unit wait."

"Thank you, Sir."

Mulder's eyes went once more to his window, searching the
night for the only light that could penetrate his soul
and heart.

Scully.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 
5:05 A.M.

Scully had managed to quiet her nerves somewhere along
the long drive from D.C. She found that strength within
that had sustained her in the past. It was the potent
combination of her faith, her own natural grit, and the
assurance of Mulder's love. Within that, she had calmed
her panic attack, and formulated a plan, of sorts.

The problem was her arms and legs were so far past numb
as to be deadened. She wasn't sure how long it would take
her to regain movement, even if she could get Daniel to
remove her bonds. But she knew she'd have to try and
persuade him to do so. It was her only chance.

Scully felt an abrupt stop as Daniel hit the brakes, and
turned off the ignition. Wherever he was taking his
hostages, they had arrived. Scully forced herself to
breathe slowly as she heard the slam of a car door, fully
expecting the trunk lid to be lifted.

However, after several minutes of silence, Scully
wondered what was up. She could smell salty air, and hear
the muffled sounds of waves lapping at the shore. She
knew she was at the ocean, but that was all. Everything
else around her was silent.

As she meditated, the trunk lid was suddenly wrenched
open, the bright beam of a flashlight blinding her with
its intensity. Scully squinted, trying to see through its
intrusive glare.

"Daniel?"

"Dana, I'm going to take you out of the trunk now. You
must be terribly uncomfortable. But Dana, as I said
before, I don't want to have to deal with any
disobedience on  your part. You will obey me, or there
will be extreme consequences for your actions. Do you
understand?"

Scully decided now was the time to begin her plan. As
docilely as possible she answered, "Daniel, I will do
nothing to oppose you. I only want to talk. We've let too
much time elapse between our last discussions."

Placing the flashlight on the ground, Daniel straightened
up, his face now barely visible in the diffuse light. As he
reached inside, preparing to gather her up in his arms,
he agreed with her last statement.

"I, too, think it's time we talked, Dana. In fact, toward
that end, I'm going to remove the tape binding your feet.
Do you promise to behave? To not attempt to escape?" he
whispered, his hand gently stroking her cheek.

"Daniel, thank you. I can't feel my legs or feet. I won't
give you any trouble," Scully answered, thankful to at
least be able to get part of the bonds removed.

Digging into his pocket, Daniel pulled a pocket knife out
and began slicing the tape that tightly bound her ankles.
Throwing the remnants to the side, he closed his knife,
and slid it back into his trousers. With gentle hands, he
lifted her body from the trunk.

Too bad she couldn't stand when he set her feet on the
ground. The first moment she tried, her legs collapsed
like rubber chicken legs beneath her, leaving her to
heavily lean on Daniel as he supported her weight.

"Easy, Dana. It's going to take a while. We'll go slowly;
I'll help you adjust."

"Daniel...Daniel where's Maggie," Scully asked, her fear
beginning to escalate again as she noticed she didn't
see Maggie seated in the front seat any longer.

"Where's your daughter, Daniel?"

Helping Scully shuffle baby steps across the driveway,
each one more painful than the last as feeling returned
to her legs in cramps and tingles, Daniel replied,

"Don't worry about her, Dana. She wasn't the one. "


CHAPTER TWELVE:

DANIEL WATERSTON'S BEACH HOUSE
5:30 A.M.

With the palm of his hand lying flat against the
weathered wood, Mulder leaned heavily upon the outside
railing of the beach house's wrap around porch. Bound
tightly in a navy blue sling, his broken arm was pulled
up snuggly against him, throbbing like the percussion
section in an orchestra. Beat after beat of kettledrum
pain pounded tympani throughout his swollen extremity.
Its crescendo, partnered with the cymbals clanging within
his collarbone, marched into his head like a '101
trombones in a big parade'. To say that Tylenol just
wasn't cutting it any longer was an understatement of
monumental proportion.

"SON OF A BITCH!" Mulder yelled out into the blackness,
his voice echoing back to him on the turbulent waves of
pounding surf. Barely had he gotten the words out of his
mouth, when Skinner was at his side.

"Agent Mulder."

"Sir."

"There's no indication that Dr. Waterston, or anyone else
for that matter, has recently been in this house. The
structure and grounds have been thoroughly searched. The
neighbors, up and down the street, have all been woken
and questioned...There's just nothing to make us think
he's been here."

Watching the smallest traces of light spread across the
horizon, mellowing the night's blackness into
dawn's murky gray, Mulder stared straight ahead. Finally,
as though forcing the words out, he spoke.

"I know. But I also know that he's here, Sir. I feel it.
Scully's nearby. I just...can't seem to clear my head
enough to hear her."

Skinner leaned in more closely, his voice hushed and
secretive as he asked, "Hear her? Mulder, I thought you'd
lost the ability to read minds...I thought, after your
operation, that ability was no longer present."

"It's not...at least not in the way that it was before.
You're safe with me, Sir, no more unauthorized treks
through the secrets of your psyche," Mulder murmured,
turning to lock eyes with his superior, an unspoken
moment of clarity between them.

"But with Scully, Sir. There are moments...um...let's
just say there are times I can hear her -- not in the
conventional sense -- not her thoughts. But I can touch
her mind in such a way that I can feel her presence."

"That must be seductive, Mulder, quite intimate-"

"Yes, Sir, it is. But it's a moot point. I don't know
where she is," he sighed, his eyes once more drawn to the
ocean and the waves enticing slide against the beach.

With his good hand, Mulder slapped  an impatient staccato
beat on the railing.

"Sir, I'm gong to take a walk and clear my head. I won't
go far, just down the beach. I have to get into Daniel's
mind. I have to figure out where he's got her. I know,
with all certainty, that Scully doesn't have much time
left."

Acknowledging Mulder's need for solitude, Skinner
replied, "Agent Mulder, I'm pulling everyone out of the
house. I'll leave a couple of people parked up front at
the community entrance to make sure Waterston doesn't
arrive after we leave. But I'm going to get the rest of
the team searching the area, just in case he's gone
somewhere else. Don't wander off."

As Mulder descended the outer stairway onto the sandy
beach, he didn't hear Skinner's final words. His mind was
already lost to the sea, to the gulls' plaintive cries,
to the surf's bubbling foam, and to the sunrise that
would come no matter what. And it was searching and
seeking for the light that always flickered within, the
light that was Scully.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


5:35 A.M.


"Daniel...where's Maggie? Where's your DAUGHTER?" Scully
repeated, terror creeping up the back of her neck to grab
with a vice-like hold around her throat, threatening to
suffocate her.

"Dana, she's fine. She's just sleeping...I gave her
something...in her coffee. Don't worry; I only want
what's best for Maggie," Daniel said, indicating the
front seat of the car where Maggie was stretched out in
peaceful slumber.

Pressing her face against the driver's side window,
Scully was relieved to see the steady rhythm of Maggie's
chest as it inhaled, and exhaled with a steady flow. Just
as she began to turn around, she noticed her gun, slipped
under the driver's seat. She could see the black barrel
barely visible against the dark floor mats, laying just
below Maggie's hand that dangled over the seat edge.

Taking two cleansing breaths to steady her frayed nerves,
Scully turned to Daniel.

Although it was no longer pitch black, it was still
difficult to see anything around them. She and Daniel
appeared to be standing in an open carport situated
beneath a house. Directly in front of her was the ocean,
the waves breaking against the shore. Behind her was a
large white gate, tightly closed. Daniel had locked it
after he'd parked the car. For all practical purposes,
they were fully secluded, hidden from any outside prying
eyes.

"Please...take off the tape. Unbind my wrists, Daniel.
So...so we can talk, and you can tell me why you went to
all this trouble," Scully entreated, making every effort
to sound calmer than she truly felt.

"Dana, I want to believe you'll listen to me. I want to
believe that we can have a civilized conversation, that
you will understand the purity of my motives, and be able
to accept your place again in my world. You have no idea,
my sweet Dana, how much I long for those things."

"Daniel, I just didn't understand. I didn't realize how
much you loved me, how much you were concerned for my
welfare. I had no idea," Scully uttered, watching
his body language, trying to interpret his behavior.

"Let's face it. You know me, Daniel. Ten years ago,
I was stubborn and young, too headstrong for my own good.
And look what it's got me...no life to speak of. My
sister...my sister's dead because of my dogmatism. My
family doesn't understand what I do; they blame me for
Missy's-"

"Oh, Dana. I'm sure that's not so. You just have to
understand, like everything in life, there are
consequences for our actions. Regrettably, Missy's life
was penalty for your rebellious ways."

Scully cringed at those words. How many times had she
considered them herself, and now to have them thrown back
at her with such disdain, with so little regard for her
feelings, was enough to make Scully forget her resolve.

Giving herself an internal pep talk, she silently
mouthed, 'Whatever it takes, Agent Scully. Whatever it
takes.'

Noting that Daniel's stance had become more casual, that
he no longer held himself straight like a board, Scully
continued.

"I know, Daniel. But there have been other things as
well. I was abducted...given cancer. I had a daughter,
sacrificed on the altar of my disobedience. There is
nothing in my life...nothing, Daniel. And there hasn't
been...since I left you," Scully whispered, looking up
into Daniel's eyes, her posture, intentionally
submissive, her words, carefully chosen.

Reaching into his pocket, Daniel removed the pocketknife.
Snapping open the blade, he gently stroked the gleaming,
metal surface.

"What about Mulder? What about your partner? I saw you
two together...more than once. He's obviously in love
with you," Daniel murmured, nicking the fleshy tip of his
thumb with the knife's sharp edge. As he watched the
pinprick of blood, bubble and pool into a drop that slid
down his hand, Scully shuddered.

Forgive me Mulder, she thought, formulating her
reply.

"Daniel. Please...you know me. Mulder's someone who
believes in little green men, who chases lights in the
sky. He believes in vampires and the Boogieman, and
government conspiracies that will supposedly jeopardize
the human race. He's brilliant, but not all there."

"But he's also your lover, Dana. Don't deny it; I know
what I saw. I know the love Mulder feels for you. I
saw it in the man's eyes," Daniel hissed, walking up
behind Scully, securely grabbing onto her arms, and
pulling her backward against his chest.

Scully yelped in pain, the deadened nerves of her arms,
once more alive as he forcefully held her. His knife
seductively slid against her throat, the small traces of
his blood trailing a thin sliver of red across her  
neck like a ruby red choker.

Swallowing the bile that threatened, Scully calmly
whispered, "Do you remember what it was like before your
divorce. You knew that you needed to leave, and yet there
were commitments, responsibilities you had to consider,
things which held you back."

"Yes, I understand responsibility," Daniel whispered, his
breath grazing the back of her neck as he spoke.

"I've just not been strong enough to leave him, Daniel.
Mulder's feelings for me are so overwhelming, so
suffocating, but I know what it will do to him when I
break it off. I am what he lives for...he doesn't have
the strength to carry on that you've had all these years.
Everything Mulder's ever loved has been taken from him.
But I know now that I can't continue on like this,
subjugating my desires for his, just as I'm sure you
concluded about yourself when you finally were able to
leave Barbara."

"No, Dana, you can't," Daniel murmured, letting go of her
arms, and bringing the knife between their bodies.

Scully felt the point slice into the tender, raw skin of
her wrists as he loosened the bonds, cutting the tape
free.

With gentle soothing strokes, he rubbed her wrists,
working his way up her arms to her shoulders in order to
restore sensation to her tortured extremities. The pain
was excruciating, poker-red hot in its intensity. But
even that was better than the throbbing numbness she had
felt before.

As much as Scully tried to stop them, tears filled her
eyes, slipping down her cheeks. Each massaging stroke
brought with it such agony that she could no longer
contain the emotions within. Not only was it physical
torture feeling the revitalization of her arms, but it
was the emotional anguish that came from knowing this man
was the same one she had nearly agreed to spend her life
with, once upon a very long time ago.

"Better, Dana?"

"Yes, thank you."

Daniel twisted her body, turning Scully to face him. For
the briefest of moments, his face contorted in pain. He
reached forward,  wiping his thumbs against her face as
though he just realized the harm he'd been doing her.

"Why are you crying, Dana? I'm so sorry...that I hurt
you. I never wanted to do that. In fact, I brought you
here to make you whole again, to deliver you from all the
pain and grief in your life," Daniel said, pointing to
the small pile of stuff he'd accumulated on the ground in
front of the car.

Her eyes followed his finger in the direction that it
pointed. There, in front of the convertible, sat a large
bouquet of wilted daisies, another lacy white negligee,
crystal goblets, and a bottle of wine.

"I bought the daisies this morning; they should still be
fresh. I had them in the back seat, along with the other
things. I knew-"

Scully tuned out the rest of what Daniel was saying as
she saw what else he had collected. Nestled among his
'gifts' were a long hose, duct tape, and rags. The stark
and final nature of these items was in such contrast to
the romantic illusion he was trying to reclaim.

"-You see, Dana. This is the only way I can truly keep
you and Maggie safe, and ensure that outside influences
do not corrupt you. It's perfect, sweetheart. Just as it
was that day. Maggie will continue to sleep, and you and
I will be able to watch the sunrise together."

Unconsciously, perhaps, Scully shook her head from side
to side, a silent 'NO' to what he was inferring. Reacting
to this, Daniel continued.

"Dana, honey, I know it's not the same; it's not a
sunset. There aren't the boulders and crashing waves like
in La Jolla. And there's hardly a troupe of Shakespearean
actors prancing about, but it is beautiful. Dana, it is
still perfect."

"Where are we, Daniel?" Scully asked, trying to buy time
for herself while she figured out what to do about this
unexpected turn of events. A suicide pact was not on her
agenda for that day or any other.

"We're at Bethany Beach, in Delaware. My own vacation
house is about half a mile down the beach. This one
belongs to a colleague of mine. He's in Europe, and I
check up on it for him. I figured it would be better to
come here; I didn't want any interruptions."

"Daniel...we can't do this. We each have responsibilities,
family that count on us...This would be too selfish. Can't
you see that."

Pulling his weapon from the waistband of his slacks,
Daniel's eyes glazed over as he spoke.

"What I see, Dana, is a life that has treated you harshly.
It has taken away so much of that young, vibrant girl I
once knew, and left you tired and dissatisfied-"

"No, Daniel. For the first time, in so very long, I am
content. I'm happy. And Maggie, she has so much to live
for; she's young, her whole life is before her. You can't
take away her chances for happiness. That's not a father's
love."

"You and Maggie are so much alike; it's uncanny. She
thinks she knows what's best for her, but she's about to
make the same poor decisions you did. This is better for
her. I'm saving her. I'm saving Maggie from a life of
recrimination and self-doubt. I'm doing exactly what you
told me in the hospital. Do you remember?"

"Daniel, I didn't tell you to kill Maggie."

"You told me that maybe the reason I was alive now was to
make up for the past...make it up to Maggie. Well, you
were right. I've been such a poor father, but I've
learned. And this will go so far towards making things up
to my little girl. No one will ever hurt her as they have
you."

Scully tried to calculate her odds of making it to the
beach before Daniel put a bullet in her back. She'd have
to leave Maggie, but maybe she could find someone close
enough to help. Or, perhaps, she could yell, causing a
neighbor to investigate, or at the very least call the
police.

"Dana...before the scream exits your mouth, you will be
dead," Daniel sighed, resignation evident in the tone of
his voice.

"And don't even think of running, sweetheart. You'll have
no chance. I'd rather we were able to enjoy these last few
moments together, to watch the glorious sunrise, to drink
a final toast to old times, and gently slide into eternity
together. But if it's not to be, I understand."

Before Scully could reply, Daniel silenced her with a
dismissive wave of his hand.

"Don't think I've been fooled by your pop-psychology
attempts to distract me, to lull me into a false sense of
security. I know exactly what you've been up to, Agent
Scully. And like I said before, I'd be disappointed in
you, if you didn't try."

"Daniel, I-"

"Save it, Dana. It's beneath you to try and play dumb.
You are an intelligent woman; you did everything I'm sure
you were trained to do in order to stay alive. Your
superiors would be proud. But in this case, the pupil is
not smarter than her mentor. You've only fooled yourself,
Agent Scully, if you think your submissive posture, or
your attempts to placate me have seduced me.

"Daniel, I am not getting into that car. I refuse to just
sit there and let you asphyxiate me."

Daniel's finger caressed the weapon's trigger, then
stopped. With his eyes still trained upon her, he bent,
grabbing the lacey spaghetti strap edge of the negligee.
Holding it out in front of him, he said, "Put it on,
Dana."

"I_will_not," Scully voiced, drawing her line in the
sand.

Tears pooling within his own eyes, Daniel mouthed, "I
love you, Dana," as he leveled and steadied his gun,
pointing it directly at Scully's chest. Her breath
hitched as she realized this was probably the end of
her road. Mulder would not be charging up on his white
steed to rescue his damsel in distress.

"You're just not the one...."

The next several seconds seemed to take place in slow
motion, real time standing still as vibrant sound and
movement stormed Scully's senses. She heard the click
of the car door opening. Out of the corner of her eye,
she saw Maggie step out, her face flushed, her eyes
vacant and drugged. Within her unsteady hands was
Scully's service weapon, pointed at Daniel.

"NOOOO!" Scully screamed, feeling the reverberation of
her cry torn from her throat as Daniel instinctively
reacted to the intruder, swinging his arm around,
squeezing the trigger, and pumping two rounds into Maggie.

Like a crumpled rag doll, Maggie collapsed, the gun flung
from her hand as her body hit the ground. Her blood slowly
trickled into the sand like a crimson stream, small eddies
swirling through the crystalline granules.

In that instant, adrenaline and desperation propelled
Scully forward like a stone launched from a slingshot. She
dove for Maggie's discarded gun. At the same time her
fingers grasped its cold, steel surface, she twisted and
rolled, coming up in a crouched position, her arms
trembling with the effort to raise the gun.

As Scully aimed her gun at Daniel, she vaguely
registered Mulder running towards her from the water's
edge. His weapon was drawn, extended in Daniel's
direction. She could see her partner's mouth moving. She
knew he spoke, and even though she couldn't hear his
voice, she knew his words.

In the split second...she remembered...several days
ago, in the courtyard.


"FRANKLY, SCULLY, MORE THAN YOU SHOOTING THE BASTARD,
WHETHER WE ARGUE THE SEMANTICS OF IT BEING JUSTIFIED OR
NOT, MY FEARS FOR YOU ARE MORE FOR HOW THAT HORRENDOUS
MOMENT MAY COLOR YOUR FUTURE ACTIONS."

PLACING HIS FINGERS UNDER HER CHIN, MULDER TILTED HER FACE
TO HIS. "SCULLY, I WORRY THAT GIVEN THE SPLIT SECOND
DECISION MAKING PROCESS THAT OCCURS IN A SITUATION LIKE
THAT, WHERE YOU MIGHT FIND YOURSELF IN THE CLUTCHES OF
ANOTHER MADMAN, YOU MIGHT 'BLINK'."

"BLINK, MULDER?" SHE WHISPERED AS A SINGLE TEAR SLID
FREE, TRACING HER CHEEK.

"YES, BLINK. REALIZING YOU MIGHT QUESTION YOUR ACTIONS,
YOUR RESOLVE, YOUR RIGHT TO USE DEADLY FORCE TO DEFEND
YOURSELF, AND THEREFOR, IN THAT 'BLINK' GIVE THE
UPPER-HAND TO THE PERP, AND CONSEQUENTLY LOSE YOUR LIFE,
SCARES THE HELL OUT OF ME, SCULLY."

"I WON'T BLINK, MULDER," SHE MUMBLED UNDER HER BREATH.

"WHAT, SCULLY, I DIDN'T HEAR YOU," MULDER SAID, FORCING
HER TO SPEAK MORE AUDIBLY.

STRAIGHTENING HER SHOULDERS, PULLING AWAY FROM HIS
EMBRACE, SCULLY SPOKE WITH CONFIDENCE.

"I_WILL_NOT_BLINK, MULDER."



Scully fired her weapon. The jolt from the discharge raced
up the ravaged nerves of her arm, but none the less, she
held firm as she fired again, taking Daniel down.

Just as the second shot rang true, Mulder was beside
Daniel's crumpled form, kicking the weapon away from his
body.

Daniel's face was turned toward the horizon. He appeared
to not even notice Mulder's presence. Gasping for air,
he coughed bright red frothy blood. "Dana," he whispered,

"Isn't it beautiful, Dana? It is such a perfect day--"

Scully struggled to stand, her limbs painfully fighting
against that desire. Daniel didn't need her any more. His
eyes stared straight ahead, fixated on some precious
memory as he breathed his last.

Until he was no more.

Lurching toward Maggie, she heard Mulder's strangled cry.

"Scully-"

Even as she labored in Maggie's direction, Scully's gaze
held Mulder's. She had so much she wanted to say to him.
But now was not the time. Maggie needed her help. If she
could help it, Daniel's tragic legacy would not include
his daughter's murder.

Grabbing the ivory nightgown from the ground she attempted
to staunch the blood flow from Maggie's wounds. As sirens
sounded in the background, Scully whispered,

"I didn't blink, Mulder. I didn't blink."


CHAPTER THIRTEEN:

THE EPILOGUE:

Scully nestled into a white whicker chair. A soft downy
comforter, pulled from the bed, was thrown casually across
her lap. Her bare toes peaked out from beneath the
blanket's edge where she placed them upon a small
whicker stool. She wiggled her toes, delighting in the
feel of the fresh morning's breeze on her feet.

"Scully?"

"Out here, Mulder," she replied.

"Thought I'd find you out here. Feeling any better?"

"Yes. I don't know what it was. Must have been
something I ate last night, just didn't sit well with me I
guess. I feel fine...now that I-"

"Prayed to the porcelain God?" Mulder chuckled, handing
Scully a warm, steaming mug.

"Exactly. What is that? Please, tell me you made me tea,"
she murmured, bringing her nose to sniff at her mug.

"Yep, no cup of Joe for you this morning, Scully. I don't
know if I ever mentioned it to you, but I don't do throw
up."

"No problem, Mulder. The stomach seems to have settled
down, although, I think I'll skip breakfast."

Chuckling, Mulder padded over to the railing where he
leaned into it, looking out at the sunrise. As he sipped
from his mug, Scully found herself admiring him instead of
the panoramic vista in front of her. Nothing like having a
wet, half naked Mulder in the morning she thought as
she observed the way his faded blue jeans hung low on
his hips, and how his bare back glistened. The morning's
rays were catching the water droplets he'd missed after
drying off from his shower, creating tiny prisms of color
down his back.

He was truly beautiful, especially since that ugly cast
had been removed. It wasn't so much the plaster that had
bothered her, but all that the brace signified, how very
close she'd come to losing him.

Bending his knee and lifting one bare foot up onto the
stool, Mulder wiggled his toes against hers. Breathing
deeply, he inhaled the crisp, clean salty tang of morning.

"As much as I've loved this weekend away, Scully. Hasn't
this brought up painful memories? We could have gone to
any Bed and breakfast along the eastern seaboard. We
didn't have to come back to Bethany Beach.

Setting her mug down on the little glass table beside her,
she shoved his leg off the stool so that she could get up.
Without her shoes she felt even smaller next to him as she
sidled her way in between Mulder and the railing. Leaning
back against him, she looked out into the fresh dawn.

Shorebirds soared through the sky, the fresh colors of the
day streaked the sky, and a young family walked along the
beach, directly out from their porch. A man, a woman, and
two small children played on the sand, collecting
seashells, and tiny sand dollars that had washed ashore
during the night.

Scully smiled as she watched the couple interacting with
their son. They grabbed hold of the little boy's hands,
swinging him along between them as his sister ran on ahead
dancing with the waves.

"That's what I want to remember about this beach, Mulder.
I want to remember all that's bright and beautiful, not
how depraved it all became."

"I understand, Scully," he murmured, resting his head upon
her own, her copper strands tickling at his chin.

"I got a postcard yesterday, from Maggie."

Mulder sighed, shifting his stance and drawing her in more
closely. "What did it say?"

"It says that she doesn't blame me for all that happened
with her dad. She understands I wasn't a part of
his...illness. She didn't want me to feel guilty."

"Sounds to me like she's grown up a lot."

"Yeah, bullet wounds tend to do that to you, Mulder. She
and Mark got married...a small civil ceremony in the
hospital chapel. She's rehabilitating nicely. And Mark has
convinced her to get counseling. He's been a Godsend, and
she thinks they will do just fine."

"Good for them."

"Yes, very. I think they'll make it. They love each other
very much."

"There's a lot of that going around lately," Mulder
chuckled, tightening his hold on Scully.

Placing her hands across his, she wrapped his arms
around her middle. Silently, they stood there, each
contemplating the morning glow.

Finally, Mulder broke the silence. His voice betraying his
displeasure as he said, "Scully, Skinner called while I
was making your tea. We have some meeting scheduled for
Monday, one not on our schedule. Apparently, we are being
audited."

"We? There's no 'we' here, Mulder. You